DEFENCE OF A CRYBABY

At primary school, a boy named Matthew told me I look ugly when I cry. He chose to disclose this piece of information while I was sobbing in the classroom after being dumped by my first crush. His comments didn’t do much to stop my tears at the time, but they have affected my feelings about crying in public ever since.

I can’t remember Matthew’s last name, but his words pop into my head whenever (and it happens more often than I’d like) I find myself crying with an audience. I cry in the back of Ubers when I’m running late, and on the footpath when a car horn gives me a fright. I cry when I’m frustrated, when I’m embarrassed and when I’m tired. If any of these things happen to coincide with me being hungry, one tissue won’t be enough to do the trick. I’m so used to showing my emotions via smudged mascara and streams of tears running down my face that I’ve become an expert at working