The Official Beauty Rules (according to Claire Mintz)

Chapter 1: How to get rid of moustaches.

It's difficult to sleep knowing that in less than two hours you are turning seventeen, officially leaving yet another year of youth. Also knowing the fact that a surprise party, which is obviously supposed to be a secret, is being planned for you, does not help the situation. I keep on turning and shuffling and adjusting my comforter, hoping to find that perfect position and finally get some rest. But nothing would work, and since even my attempts to count the books on my shelf (which is impossible, by the way) multiple times did not give me justice, I finally get up and decide to have some cereal.

Without milk I munch on Special K granola, as I browse through channels airing shows that I did not know exist. I settle on replays of What Not To Wear on TLC. Eventually, I turn off the television, getting bored of the repetition and the deprivation of curiosity as to how Cassie, the one getting a makeover, will look in the end. They need to film new episodes.

I return to my room, missing my cereal and regretting not bringing it. Since I don't have the energy to return downstairs in the kitchen, I go to the washroom, I look in the mirror, and am horrified by the realization of how much my eyebrows deserve to be groomed.

I have done this way too many times to still feel the pain, but once in a while when I pull those deeply rooted hairs, I can't help but wince. I also do my upper lip, and as I do I reminisce the summer after I had graduated from sixth grade.

My determination to become beautiful that summer was strong. I cut off chips and sodas and cake, including red velvet which is my favourite, from my life. I promised myself never to cut my hair, even though I was scared then by the thought of having my hair in my buttox. I shaved every visible hair on my legs and pledged that I would lotion them everyday of my life. I begged my mom to clean my eyebrows.

And I, being the intelligent girl that I was, settled on waxing my peach fuzz secretly, using a really adhesive Scotch tape I had found hidden deep in the storage room in my basement. I should have seriously been rewarded for my creativity and crafty use of sources.

I was so prepared to do it. Without much thought, I slapped the grey tape on my upper lip as I stood alone in the powder room, and pressed it with my fingers, hoping it would stick to the army of hairs. The second I pulled the tape from the edges I wanted to cry. I had barely even removed it, and it almost covered my entire mouth. I took many attempts to gather up the courage to rip it off but I couldn't.

I went to my mom bawling and she had this look on her face that said, What the heck is this thing on my daughter's face? I explained it to her, and finally it concluded with me forcing my eyes shut, and mommy intensely jerking the tape off as if she was having an epileptic fit. For two days the bottom half of my face was swollen, and for some spots the pores were bulging and intensely red. A total of fourteen hairs was removed.

I vowed to never again use masking tape as wax.

As I pluck away, I hear my phone ping as to alert me of a message. I check my phone and it displays Celine Flowers on the screen. Yes, her last name is honestly Flowers. If I hadn't seen her student card I wouldn't believe it either.

'Happy freaking birthday Belle bundle of beauty bunches!! I am so happy for you good Granny of goodness gracious! Because of you, I've found the crazy person inside of me that you was always there. Seriously I freaking love you!!! Happy birthday again! Stay ugly you beautiful person! <3'

I laugh, reading the text as a reminder of her new obsession with alliteration, even though her use of it doesn't make sense. She gathers up these random words that definitely do not go together, only because she thinks it's cool that they begin with the same consonants. All in all, she's a wad of weird.