Butters - a coming of age short story

Once upon a time, I accompanied a friend when she went on a jaunt in East London to meet a young gentleman friend (or as my mother would call it, galavanting). I stood a short distance away and heard the young gentleman say to my friend, "what did you bring her for, she's butters." For those unfamiliar with British slang, "butters" means ugly. At the time, I was a young teenager and wasn't particularly interested in boys but when I heard the words fall out of his mouth, I remember becoming incredibly aware of my physical being - my gangly limbs, the gap in my teeth, the strange things protruding from my chest, and despite its name, the beauty spot above my lip. Regardless of the years of teasing and name calling by my big brother and cousins, I never thought of myself as "butters", but those words really struck a chord and I can still see that young Louise hoping for the pavement to open up and swallow her whole.

I thought about the money and time spent over the years on primping in an attempt to look less "butters". Saturdays at the hair salon having my hair straightened, pulled, curled and fried in an attempt to make me beautiful. Hours spent having plastic claws glued onto my fingertips and then painted all the colours of the rainbow, to attract a mate like an acrylic peacock. In adulthood, something shifted and my gangly limbs allowed me to do interesting things in yoga classes. The gap in my teeth was mine and according to French tradition it is called *dents du bonheur*, translating to “lucky teeth.” The things protruding from my chest are still there but less strange to me - except when they take on a life of their own when I emerge from the sea. And I love my beauty spot, especially as my sister has the same on the opposite side of her face.

Even though it was a hurtful experience, I am grateful I grew up when I did - before fillers became an attainable goal for teenage girls and before it was nigh on impossible to leave the house without being Instagram-ready. The only thing I had to contend with was a smart-mouth, horny boy and my reflection in the mirror which hasn't changed much over the years, apart from a few laughter lines and grey hairs. From different angles, the woman looking back at me resembles so many women in my family - she is my mother, sister, niece, cousin, aunt, great aunt, grandmother and she is beautiful.