A girl, once labeled “wolf girl” and “monkey face” by her peers, knew that her condition wouldn’t stop her from finding happiness. Eventually, she discovered the love of her life, and her story reveals the profound impact it had on her life.
Supatra “Natty” Sasuphan, once dubbed the world’s hairiest girl, faced ridicule and fear from her classmates due to her unique appearance.
On August 5, 1999, something important happened in Supatra’s family. Usually, when a new baby is born, parents feel really happy and excited. That’s how Supatra’s mom and dad, Sompon and Samrerng, felt when she was born.
But their happiness was mixed with surprise, fear, and disbelief because the doctortold them their baby had a lot of hair. At first, they thought it was normal, but when they saw her in the incubator, they were shocked by how much hair she had. Supatra’s hair covered almost her whole body, and even the doctors in Thailand had never seen someone like her.
Later on, doctors figured out that Natty had a very rare skin disease called Ambras syndrome. This condition is so uncommon that there have only been 50 cases like hers documented in the world since a long time ago.
Ambras syndrome causes excess body hair growth, sparing only the palms, soles, and mouth interior, likely due to a sudden DNA change.
When Natty was born, and her mom wanted to leave the hospital, the doctors didn’t want to let her go because they were worried she might leave her child behind. Sompon told the doctor that she would never abandon her child, no matter what. She said, “We are lucky that she was born into our family.”
Natty grew up in a loving family, but not everyone was understanding of her condition, and she had to deal with some unkindness from strangers and peers.
As Natty grew up, her face remained hidden behind thick hair due to her incurable Ambras syndrome. Regular methods like laser removal couldn’t slow down her hair growth. At school, she faced ridicule because of her unique appearance. Kids called her names like “wolf girl” and “monkey face.”
Natty, however, didn’t understand why they teased her, as she considered herself a normal girl with just a bit more hair. She stated, “It’s the way I am.”
Natty’s teacher, Kuljira Posaeng, revealed that other kids were initially scared of Natty’s appearance, making her early school days difficult. Over time, though, Natty proved she was just like any other student. Teachers described her as hardworking with good grades, and she eventually became one of the most popular kids at school.
Natty’s teachers said she was a lively girl who loved to sing, dance, and act. Her parents treated her just like any other kid, and they never made her feel like she was less important. They took her everywhere and weren’t embarrassed that she looked different from other children.
Later on, Natty found her love.
Natty has come to terms with her condition, understanding that there’s no cure for it. She decided to keep her body hair the way it naturally grew from the time she was born, only shaving her face when she became a teenager. As she grew older, her self-esteem and self-image became more important to her, and she also found love.
She shared: “It began from friendship, then we became a couple.” Their conversations brought her happiness, and being together was comfortable, with a love she didn’t anticipate: “It was a kind of love that I didn’t expect would happen to me.”
Natty later married her boyfriend, calling him “the love of my life.”
She also posted pictures with her lover, showing her face without facial hair. Some people thought she might have been cured, but her dad explained that she had chosen to shave her facial hair to reveal her new look. Now, her eyes, face, mouth, lips, and cheeks are visible, with only her forehead covered by her head’s hair.
Natty, who has found love and happiness, is determined to lead a positive life and continue making a beautiful impact on society. She believes that everyone is beautiful and unique in their own way, and she wants to inspire others to embrace their individuality and radiate their inner beauty.
Before you go, be sure to check out another article where a woman shares her story to emphasize that body hair shouldn’t be criticized, highlighting the importance of self-acceptance and embracing one’s uniqueness.
Preview photo credit Guinness World Records / Facebook, truly / Youtube
I MARRIED A WIDOWER WITH A SMALL SON – ONE DAY, THE BOY TOLD ME THAT HIS REAL MOM STILL LIVES IN OUR HOUSE
The antique clock in the hallway chimed six times, its resonant tones echoing through the quiet house. I knelt on the living room carpet, building a precarious tower of blocks with Lucas, my five-year-old stepson. He giggled, his small hands clumsily placing a wobbly blue block atop the structure.
“Careful, Lucas,” I cautioned, “it’s going to fall!”
He squealed with delight as the tower swayed, then crashed to the ground. But his laughter died abruptly, replaced by a wide-eyed stare directed towards the hallway.
“Mom says you shouldn’t touch her things,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
A shiver ran down my spine. “What do you mean, sweetie?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
He pointed towards the hallway, his eyes fixed on something I couldn’t see. “Mom says she doesn’t like it when you move her picture.”
My heart pounded in my chest. “Lucas,” I said, forcing a smile, “your mom… she’s not here anymore, remember?”
He shook his head, his expression serious. “No, she is. She’s right there.”
I followed his gaze, my eyes scanning the empty hallway. There was nothing there, just the familiar antique furniture and the framed photographs on the wall. Yet, Lucas’s words echoed in my mind, fueling a growing unease that had been plaguing me for weeks.
It had started with a simple whisper, a chilling confession as I tucked him into bed one night. “My real mom still lives here,” he had said, his voice barely a breath.
I had dismissed it as a child’s overactive imagination, a way of coping with the loss of his mother. But then, strange things started happening. Lucas’s toys, meticulously tidied away, would reappear in the middle of the living room floor. Kitchen cabinets, carefully organized, would be found rearranged overnight. And the photograph of Ben’s late wife, Mary, which I had moved to a less prominent spot, kept returning to its original place on the mantelpiece, perfectly dusted.
I had tried to rationalize it, to attribute it to forgetfulness or coincidence. But the incidents grew more frequent, more unsettling. And Ben, my husband, seemed oblivious, or perhaps, deliberately blind to it all.
“Ben,” I had said one evening, my voice trembling, “have you noticed anything… strange happening around the house?”
He had looked at me, his brow furrowed. “Strange? Like what?”
I hesitated, unsure how to articulate the growing sense of unease that had taken root in my heart. “I don’t know… things moving, things changing…”
He had chuckled, dismissing my concerns with a wave of his hand. “You’re just tired, darling. It’s been a stressful few weeks.”
But I wasn’t tired. I was terrified.
Now, as I looked at Lucas, his eyes wide with conviction, I knew I couldn’t ignore it any longer. Something was happening in this house, something I couldn’t explain.
“Lucas,” I said, my voice gentle, “can you tell me more about your mom? What does she look like?”
He tilted his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “She’s very pretty,” he said. “She has long hair, like you. And she wears a white dress.”
My blood ran cold. The description matched the woman in the photograph, the woman whose presence seemed to linger in every corner of this house.
“And what does she say to you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Lucas looked at me, his eyes filled with a chilling seriousness. “She says she’s not happy,” he whispered. “She says you’re trying to take her place.”
A wave of fear washed over me, so intense it almost brought me to my knees. I looked around the room, the familiar furniture suddenly seeming menacing, the shadows deepening in the corners. I felt a presence, a cold, unseen gaze fixed upon me.
I had married a widower, a man I loved deeply, a man who had welcomed me into his life and his home. But I had also married into a house haunted by the past, a house where the presence of his late wife lingered, a house where I was not welcome.
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