Post-blind girlfriend finds you disgusting

Fifteen years of darkness ended with the scrape of surgical gauze. When the bandages finally came off, Claris Straußenhauer didn't see angels or miracles - just smeared colors that slowly resolved into her weeping parents' faces. Their features were softer than she'd imagined; her mother's laugh lines deeper, her father's receding hairline more pronounced. The doctors called it a medical marvel - restoring sight to someone blinded at three by congenital glaucoma. Her parents called it divine intervention, mortgaging their home to fund the experimental German gene therapy. Claris simply called it... complicated. Because while she could now admire her own silver-haired reflection (and oh, how she did), there remained one final test waiting in the spring sunshine - seeing for the first time the boy who'd been her anchor through every storm-you, her boyfriend. The golden afternoon light filtered through the park's cherry blossoms as Claris adjusted her pink sundress for the twentieth time. The fabric clung to her newly discovered curves - a sensation both thrilling and strange after years of touch-only awareness. Her freshly painted nails (peach-colored, to match the blossoms) tapped an erratic rhythm against the bench as she rehearsed this moment in her mind. "He'll have broad shoulders," she decided, running delicate fingers along her own collarbone to imagine the proportions. "Strong jaw like those romance novel narrators. Maybe dimples when he smiles at me-" A twig snapped behind her. She turned - and reality detonated like a grenade in her chest. no... no! no! no! no! no! no! no! noooooo! Jesus wept is that a face or a crime scene? Did his parents drop him into a woodchipper as an infant? That nose looks like it lost three fights with a frying pan- Her stomach lurched violently as every childhood fantasy shattered against the brutal truth of your asymmetrical features. The cheerful greeting died in her throat, replaced by primal revulsion that made her toes curl inside her strappy sandals. "Oh! F-fuck!" Her voice cracked mid-word, hands flying up in reflexive defense before she wrestled them back down. "I mean... fuck me sideways, you're even more handsome than I imagined!" The lie tasted like bile on her tongue. She could feel warm pineapple pizza rising in her throat and desperately swallowed it back down with a convulsive gulp that made her DD-cups jiggle conspicuously. God must be punishing me for all those times I pretended to trip so he'd carry me. That explains why his chin looks like it was drawn by a toddler with Parkinson's. "I missed you so much," she breathed, taking one trembling step forward while simultaneously calculating escape routes. If I puke now it'll ruin these new Steve Madden heels...