The story of Mary Ann Bevan, who was considered ‘The ugliest woman in the world,’ starts in the 19th century, a dark period of the American culture when ‘freak shows,’ traveling circuses showing people with certain deformities and disabilities, were at the peak of their popularity.
Today, it is highly unacceptable to treat people with disabilities with disrespect, but back in the day, no one believed it was morally wrong to dub them freaks.
Mary Ann Bevan was born on December 20, 1874, in Plaistow, East London, United Kingdom. She grew up to become a nurse and was respected by the society. On top of that, she was a very attractive woman who was offered many possibilities.
In 1902, Mary met the love of her life, a man named Thomas Bevan. The two married and welcomed four children together, but their happiness didn’t last long. After 14 years, Thomas passed away, leaving Mary heartbroken.
Her life became difficult as she was left to take care and provide for her children all by herself.
Unfortunately, around the time she turned 32, Mary started experiencing strange symptoms. Her face started changing gradually and she didn’t know what was happening or what caused that change which impacted her both psychologically and financially. Mary’s bones grew big, and her face became deformed. As a result, she lost her job and was unable to provide for her children any longer.
Back in the day, no one could diagnose her, but this poor woman suffered from acromegaly, a hormonal disorder that develops when the pituitary gland produces too much growth hormone during adulthood, when a change in height doesn’t occur. Instead, the increase in bone size is limited to the bones of the hands, feet and face.
Today, a lot more is knows about this condition and there are ways to keep it under control, which wasn’t the case during the time Mary lived.
Crushed, heartbroken, and poor, this woman saw an ad one day which read, “Wanted: Ugliest woman. Nothing repulsive, maimed or disfigured. Good pay guaranteed, and long engagement for successful applicant. Send recent photograph.”
No matter how awful she felt about this ‘job,’ she saw no way out of her situation. She simply needed to do anything in order to feed her children. Above all, she was a mother.
Mary answered the ad and she was soon contacted by the circus’ agent, a man named Claude Bartram, who later shared Mary’s story.
“She was not repulsive at all. She had the kind of face one usually finds in a giant, a powerful, masculine jaw, prominent cheek-bones, nose and forehead, but she was unblemished, healthy and strong. She told me she did not like the idea of placing herself on exhibition, she was shy and did not want to be separated from her children,” Bartram said, according to Daily Star.
“I told her she would earn £10 per week for a year, travelling expenses and all the money from the sale of picture postcards of herself, so she could provide for the education of her children.”
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In no time, magazines were filled with Mary Ann’s photos and everyone recognized her as ‘the ugliest woman on Earth.’
Her popularity brought her to the Dreamland Circus in Coney Island, New York, one of the most famous circuses there were. Mary Ann became an attraction, but then a doctor named Harvey Cushing, a leading neurosurgeon, spotted her and knew there was more behind ger huge face that he wanted to explore thoroughly.
“This unfortunate woman who sits in the sideshow of Ringling Brothers ‘between Fat Lady and Armless Wonder’ and ‘affects white lace hats, woollen mittens and high laced shoes’ has a story which is far from mirth-provoking.
“She, previously a vigorous and good-looking young woman, has become the victim of a disease known as acromegaly,” he wrote in a letter to Time magazine.
Mary Ann spent her life working at the circus and she was reported to have earned a small fortune which enabled her to send her children back to England where they attended boarding schools.
She endured a lot, but she did it all for her children.
Mary Ann died at the age of 59 of natural causes. Her final wish was to be buried in her homeland, England, and her children fulfilled her wish. She is resting at the Ladywell and Brockley Cemetery in South London.
This woman’s sad, yet fascinating life story speaks of the mother’s love for her children more than anything else.
My Father Went Fishing with His Friends and Forgot My 18th Birthday
Ryder’s 18th birthday should have been a milestone celebration, but the absence of his father left him feeling deeply disappointed. Learning that his dad chose a fishing trip with friends over spending time with him only added to his heartbreak. However, what happened next led Ryder to see things in a new light. Let me introduce myself—I’m Ryder, and I recently turned 18. Before I dive into the story of my birthday, let me share a bit about my life. Things were pretty normal until I turned seven. That’s when the arguments between my mom and dad began. I didn’t fully understand what was happening at the time, but I could sense the tension. By the time I was eight, my dad was gone. I remember clearly the day my mom sat me down and explained, “Ryder, sweetie, your father won’t be living with us anymore. But you can still see him whenever you want, okay?”My heart skipped a beat.
“But why, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” Mom’s eyes welled up with tears, but she smiled gently. “Oh, no, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault at all.” “Then why is Dad leaving?” I asked, desperate for answers. She took a deep breath. “Well, sometimes grown-ups just can’t live together anymore. Your dad and I tried really hard to make things work, but sometimes things just don’t turn out the way we hope.” “Can’t you try harder?” I pleaded, not ready to accept the reality. She pulled me into a hug. “We did try, Ryder. For a long time. But sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is to live apart. Your dad and I will both always love you, and that won’t ever change. We just won’t be living in the same house anymore.” And just like that, my parents were divorced. After the divorce, Mom took a job as an elementary school teacher, working tirelessly to give me a good life. I’ll always be grateful for that. But my dad? He became like a ghost in my life—always busy with work, friends, and his hobbies, especially fishing. Every weekend, he’d vanish with his buddies to go fishing, even when Mom reminded him that I’d be visiting. Despite everything, a part of me still longed for his attention. I wanted him to notice me, to be proud of me. So, I spent years trying to win his approval, hoping that one day he’d realize how much I needed him. But I was wrong. As my 18th birthday approached, I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d show up this time. Turning 18 is a big deal, after all. I planned a small party with Mom and a few close friends. I even texted Dad about it, and his reply gave me hope: “Sounds great! I’ll try to be there.” The day arrived, and Mom went all out—decorating the house, baking my favorite cake, and even surprising me with a new guitar I’d been eyeing for months. Friends started arriving, and the house was soon filled with laughter and excitement. But as the hours passed, there was still no sign of Dad. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a message, but there was nothing. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to call him. When he finally picked up, I could hear the sound of waves and chatter in the background. “Dad, it’s my birthday,” I reminded him, trying to hide the desperation in my voice. “Oh, right. Happy birthday!” he replied casually. “I’m out on the lake with the guys. I’ll catch you later, okay?” I hung up, feeling tears blur my vision. I rushed to my room and hid there until Mom found me. She sat beside me, putting her arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, honey. You know how he is.” “I know,” I whispered, trying to stay strong, but inside, I was shattered. The days after my birthday were a blur. I pretended everything was fine, but inside, I felt invisible. Dad’s absence reminded me that I wasn’t important enough for him. Then, a week later, Dad called. He acted as if nothing had happened. “Hey, I got you a gift,” he said. “Want to come over and get it?” Part of me wanted to tell him to forget it, but another part still held onto that sliver of hope. So, I agreed. When I arrived at his house, he greeted me with a smile and handed me a long, mysterious package. As I unwrapped it, my heart sank—it was a fishing rod. “What do you think?” he asked proudly. “We can go fishing together sometime!” The fishing rod wasn’t just a poorly chosen gift; it was a symbol of his absence, a reminder of the very activity that had taken him away from me. “Thanks, Dad,” I forced a smile. “It’s… great.” He didn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm. “I figured it was time you learned the ropes. You’ll have fun!” He then suggested we go fishing the next weekend, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. “I… I can’t come next weekend, Dad,” I said. “I’ve got plans with Mom.” He frowned for a moment, but then his smile returned. “No worries, we’ll find another time.” But I knew we wouldn’t, and for the first time, I was okay with that. As I left his house holding the rod, I realized it was time to let go of the fantasy and accept the reality. I couldn’t keep chasing after someone who couldn’t be there for me. Over the next few months, I focused on the people who genuinely cared about me—my mom, my friends, and most importantly, myself. I threw myself into my music, practicing guitar for hours, and began helping Mom more around the house, grateful for everything she had done for me. One evening, as we were doing dishes together, Mom asked, “Have you heard from your father lately?” “Nah, but it’s okay. I’m done waiting for him to show up,” I replied. She looked at me with a mix of sadness and understanding. “I’m sorry it turned out this way, Ryder. I always hoped…” “I know, Mom,” I hugged her. “But I’ve got you, and that’s more than enough.” As time passed, I learned that my worth wasn’t tied to Dad’s attention. I found strength in the love and support around me and realized that sometimes people won’t be what you need them to be—and that’s okay. The fishing rod still sits in my closet, untouched. It serves as a reminder, not of what I lost, but of what I gained—self-respect, resilience, and the ability to let go of what I can’t change. What would you have done if you were in my place?
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