• I placed the tube of lipstick on my desk, frustrated. This color looked ridiculous on me. I hated it, the way that the bright orange somehow matched the color of my hair. How pathetic, I thought. Why would anyone ever like me?
    I leaned in closer to the mirror, examining my face. My nose was small and flat, my eyes were squinty and brown. I didn't like the way my lips were shaped: sort of like a beak. My eyebrows needed serious attention.
    I pulled out some acne cream from the drawer to my left. Half of it was used up, but my acne still hadn't gone away. I threw it across the room in anger, wishing that I was pretty. If only I was five sizes smaller, twenty shades tanner, and had no acne. No, not only that. I wanted to be two inches taller, have a perfect face, and be pretty like everyone else. I wanted platinum blonde hair, stiletto heels, and a perfect, toned stomach, just like the popular girls at my school.

    Or maybe I could just be myself.