Some girls are beautiful. Some girls have the glossy long hair. The bright shining eyes. The full breasts and tucked waists and round hips. Some girls have the looks that gain them longing and envious glances from boys and girls alike.
And some girls don't. Not everyone can be pop-star glamorous. There are people with fat clinging to their chins, stomachs, thighs. There are people with zit-speckled faces, stringy hair, dull lifeless eyes. There are people who wear clothes that always fall in the wrong way or cling to the wrong places no matter what.
There are people like me.
My bland brown eyes hide behind the thick lenses of childish pink glasses. Oily brown curls poion my blemish-infested skin. Slabs of fat are stacked against my bones, holding on desperately. Each part of my body is a piece from a different puzzle, none fitting with any other. A total lack of synchronization.
Some girls are beautiful. Why not me?
I may not be beautiful now. I may not be beautiful in two wees or two months or two years. But one day, maybe one day, I will be able to hold my head high and say to the reflection in the glass,
"I am beautiful."
