It takes a lot to accept yourself. This is a story about a girl named Angelina who went through a lot because of the way she looked. She got death threats from her classmates at her high school. She got pushed down and kicked into the dirt. It seeme...
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I couldn't believe my mom was actually letting me use her makeup. She was usually so strict about things like this. I had only used makeup once, for a school dance in sixth grade, but as soon as Mom saw it on me, she punished me and my older sister, Brizzy, who had put it on me. I was so excited because I had plenty of pimples and imperfections on my skin, and I didn't want to be known to this new school as "Queen of Pimples" like at my middle school.
"Now sweetheart remember," my mom started. We were sitting on the bathroom counter, and she was shuffling around her cosmetic bag trying to find certain products. "You are beautiful no matter what. Always remember that, Angelina. With or without makeup."
"I know, Mom," I lied. She'd told me that tons of times before. I never really believed it. When people thought of your "ideal girl," I knew they would think of a petite, flawless, blonde, blue-eyed, white girl. I was none of those. I wore a size "large" in most clothes, I had pimples dotted all over my face, dark brown hair and eyes, and brown skin.
"Now this is foundation. It just about matches you...You apply it like this..." she smeared a bit on my rough face and used a beauty sponge to blend it. It looked good, although not all my pimples could be covered.
"And this is concealer. It brightens up your face and covers anything the foundation may have missed." She put it on my upper cheeks and part of my nose where I had a very visible whitehead. And just like that, it was gone.
"Wha...?" Lots of my pimples had been covered. I didn't know it was physically possible to cover up everything, but my mom just did it with some product and a sponge!
"I know, right? These products work magic on me every single day! This is all I want you wearing for now, okay?" she said.
"Alright, mom."
"Okay." She kissed my head and handed me a washcloth. "Now, wash this off and go to bed. First day of school tomorrow! I love you." And she walked out of the bathroom.
I looked myself in the mirror. I squinted and adjusted my glasses to make sure I was seeing correctly. I couldn't possibly be. Mom was right. I was kinda pretty. Well, at least, when I didn't have as many pimples showing. I decided I was going to apply that stuff before school tomorrow morning.
When I got to school the next day, I noticed all the cliques that there were in middle school, but they seemed way more defined here. A mass of about twenty cheerleaders was sitting at a table behind the football players, which consisted of about double members than the cheer team. A group of "nerds" (or at least I assumed) were standing in a corner of the courtyard, the "geeks" not far away. A bunch of people of all races, heights, and sizes, who looked like my type (they were all wearing overalls--my signature thing!) were gathered in the center. I guessed they were the smart/artsy ones.
I felt a bit more confident after seeing some people that reminded me of myself. I decided to approach them. "Hey, guys," I shyly said. They immediately welcomed me.
"Hey, I'm Song," a very pretty Asian girl said.
"I'm Laura," said a beautiful, curvy girl.
"I'm Katherine, but you can call me Blue," a girl with blue hair told me.
To be honest, I wasn't very interested in any of them. They all looked and sounded very nice, but I would have to be further acquainted with them later. I was really interested in a very small girl sitting on the ground reading. Or maybe she was fake reading. Whatever she was doing, she looked kinda sad.
I approached her and said, "Hey."
She scrambled around and picked up her backpack. "Oh, hello," she said in a small voice.
"Are you alright?" I asked her.
"Oh--Yep."
"Don't mind her," said the curvy girl, Laura.
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"Yeah, Maryam's kind of a mess right now, we all are," admitted Song.
"Yeah...Kinda," Maryam said. "I'm not prepared for this school year."
"You and me both, sister," said Blue.
"Gotcha. And--Maryam?" I asked before she rushed off. "Can--can I call you Mary?"
