STROLLING into the studio, I could hear women chatting and laughing as they prepared for the photo shoot that day.
But as soon as they set eyes on me silence suddenly fell.
Each one in turn gave me a once over and who can blame them? I was looking particularly stylish.
“You must be our model?” the makeup artist assumed, gesturing for me to sit down.
It was an easy mistake to make. Only, I wasn’t the model but the assistant there to help at the fashion shoot – and just one of countless occasions where my beauty has singled me out.
I’ve been out of work, on-off, for almost a decade and one of the main reasons, among many others, is down to the fact I am simply too attractive for the workplace.
Women want to be like me, and men want to be with me.
Of course it’s flattering, but it has also wreaked havoc with my past office jobs, with women complaining to bosses about me for no reason other than jealousy.
It’s not just being mistaken for a model – or rooms falling silent when I enter – which has told me I am too beautiful to work.
in my office roles, whenever I dolled myself up women would whisper and then glance at me, tutting disapprovingly.
In fact the only times I ever received compliments at work was when I slummed it on dress-down Fridays, turning up in my Fila hoody, trainers and no-makeup.
I’m absolutely certain this was a ploy by the other women encouraging me to always look my worst, never my best.
I’ve caught female colleagues staring at my legs, longingly, most likely wishing theirs were as slender as mine.
I would get unfairly criticised and I could see no other reason for it other than the fact I was more attractive than they were.
Once I was on the receiving end of a hissy-fit, being told by my manager that the frilly Victorian blouses I ordered for a fashion shoot “weren’t Victorian enough”.
Talk about petty – it just stunk of a midlife crisis.
I have also had line managers ordering me to ‘rub my makeup in’. What other reason could there be for it than the fact it looked too good?
After six months of trying to get a grip on the hissy-fits and unreasonable demands, I decided enough was enough and handed in my notice.
There were squeals of delight from my manager and I received a rucksack as a leaving gift. I saw a glint of pleasure in her eyes.
But this wasn’t a stand alone case of bullies, b****es and ballooned egos.
Other women have constantly bombarded me with cakes and sweets daily in a vain bid to ruin my figure.
They’ve mocked and ostracised me from group meals simply for saying “I know I’ve got the best legs in this office” which was the absolute truth.
To be fair, women who look as good as me tend to show me kindness and solidarity – they too must know the barriers women who are beautiful face.
Of course women aren’t the only breed to notice my looks.
Twice I’ve been hired by men who later cracked on to me, and wanted to get me into bed, even one who was married.
There is of course a flipside to being gorgeous – pretty privilege, a term used to describe how being beautiful can lead to greater successes.
Older, more powerful women in fashion have enjoyed having someone ‘whose smile can light up a room’ with ‘fabulous legs’ by their side at swanky events.
Simply put, we know the scourge of being stunners -everyone hates us, especially other women. But these lovely ladies are sparse.
Sometimes it’s been my delicious combination of brains as well as beauty which have seen me experiencing “one-uppers”.
When I began writing about living with a severe mental illness I was the only writer in the UK doing it.
Pretty priviledge is a term coined on TikTok that claims that those who are better looking get treated better in life.
Videos labelled #PrettyPrivilege have amassed more than 144.3million views as they discuss the positives – and pitfalls – of being good-looking.
Psychologist Jo Hemmings explains: “There is the ‘Halo Effect’ where we subconsciously assume that people’s looks are a reflection of their personalities.
“Attractive people are seen as more warm, trustworthy and intelligent.”
Now, so many people have copied me – and they don’t even thank me for lighting-up their paths.
I’ve had my dreams in life pilfered and ransacked too. Other women adopt mine as their own because they lack their own imagination.
What I say I’d love to do, they copy! Every friend I’ve lost over the years had turned their hand to writing after seeing me do it well. Only, they try to be like me, and fail.
It leaves me feeling exploited, I hate it when people copy me because they usually do such a terrible job.
Today, I simply can’t return to the office because I know how badly others would react around a woman like me who is so beautiful, and talented.
Haters gonna hate, hissers gonna hiss, cats gonna copy
Erica Cartier
When I finally opened up about my life-long mental health battle, I thought the jealousy and hit-on-me’s might stop, as I was so openly vulnerable.
But the jealousy has carried on into middle-age.
Thankfully, my GP and psychiatrist – both women – have advised me not to go to work, and provided me with a sick note to help with this.
And the stress of receiving abuse puts my mental health in jeopardy – stress is the biggest cause of relapse in psychotic-illnesses.
I wonder if I might have avoided a breakdown in the first place if it hadn’t have been for all the jealous types.
Haters gonna hate, hissers gonna hiss, cats gonna copy.
I’m a lot happier now I’m out of the desk-jockey grind and without friends who try to be me.
