Gail Carriger Quotes

For some reason, people look at me and laugh. I don't know why.

People made fun of my skinny legs.

Really, the combination of the scabs and the ointment looks hideous. I can't help enjoying his distress. "Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven't looked pretty?" I say. "It must be. The sensation's completely new. How have you managed it all these years?" he asks. "Just avoid mirrors. You'll forget about it," I say. "Not if I keep looking at you," he says.

When I was a teenager, I was fat. I was shy. I wore glasses. I had a big eyebrow and hair all over my body. They were years of torture.

As I got older, I became so self conscious about my birthmark that I was very hesitant about going to a pool party, because I didn't want my makeup to rub off.

I was making out with this woman, and my shirt was off, and she leaned over and, in a really cute, girly voice, went, 'Hey, fatty!'

People laugh at me. Sometimes I know why, and sometimes I don't.

People would look at me weird. You know, like, 'Why is this guy's hands always in his pockets?' But I was embarrassed by the size of my hands.

As a teenager, I had big breasts for my age, and my friends cracked on me a lot.

You see, I'd not a very good place here; the fellows looked on me as a sort of special object of ridicule, on account of the hat and cane, walk, and so on, though I thought I'd got over that by this time.

I was afraid of having to present my big nose to strangers.

I would always hunch over, I was always taller than the boys. I had the extremely skinny legs... I would double up my socks, those ones from Footlocker, to make my legs look thicker.

My walk is consistently made fun of.

When I was younger, I was insecure for about 10 years: I wore glasses, had a cow's lick, buck teeth and braces. I looked ridiculous.

That's something I've dealt with my whole life, people making fun of me and my size. Everything from having a huge forehead to the size of my feet, and not being able to wear the same size shoes as my friends, definitely.

Throughout high school, I was made fun of a lot. I was a lot smaller than the other kids, and I have a big gap in my teeth. I had pretty bad acne. So I struggled with that.

The fear of being laughed at makes cowards of us all.

I writhe when I see myself on the screen. I'm such a dreadfully clumsy hulking image. I say to myself, "Why doesn't he get off? Why doesn't he get off?" I mean, I look like such an idiot. Some fat awkward thing dredged up from some third-rate drama company. I must stop thinking about it, otherwise I shan't be able to go on working.

I was such a dork. I was too big. I was really gangly.

I had just started ninth grade when I got my acne. And I had braces. I wouldn't look people in the eye. It was not a good time for me - it just killed my self-esteem. I thought when I didn't look at someone, they couldn't see my face.

There was a kind of physical anarchy that dominated most of my younger life. I was always too skinny, not hairy enough, my voice jumped around. It was a thing that drove me away from towel lines in gym class.

It was hard to get guys to notice me, period, because I was so skinny and all my friends were curvy. Plus, I used to be very nervous in front of guys.

Since I was a little child, my nose - I think it's too big.

I believe they talked of me, for they laughed consumedly.