This reminded me a lot of this poem by Wendy Cope, called The Sitter. It's based off of this painting by Vanessa Bell.


Depressed and disagreeable and fat:

That’s how she saw me. It was all she saw.

Around her, yes, I may have looked like that.

She hardly spoke, she thought I was a bore.

Beneath her gaze I couldn’t help but slouch.

She made me feel ashamed, my face went red.

I’d rather have been posing on a couch

For some old rake who wanted me in bed.

Some people made me smile, they made me shine,

They made me beautiful, but they’re all gone.

Those friends, the way they saw this face of mine.

And her contempt for me is what lives on.

Admired, well-bred, artistic Mrs Bell

I hope you’re looking hideous in hell.