The Age of Beauty

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Abstract

tributionCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=pexels">Pexels</a></figcaption></figure>When I was in high school, I became surrounded by a flurry of pretty girls with blonde hair and slim figures. I would look down at my overly plump frame, blemished skin and brown hair and wonder:“Aren’t I supposed to be pretty at this age? Aren’t all teenage girls supposed to be bombshells?”I was an anomaly, a mark

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on the perceived agility and beauty of all girls my age. I didn’t wear makeup, and I didn’t dress up. I feel that I missed out. I am not like the other girls with their hourglass figures or flat stomachs.I am the ugly duckling in my family. Instead of being this flat stomached goddess, I am a rotund goblin. I wear makeup now, but it doesn’t make a lot of difference. Beauty is the evil that lays in wait right in front of our eyes.</article></body>

Shortform

When I was in high school, I became surrounded by a flurry of pretty girls with blonde hair and slim figures. I would look down at my overly plump frame, blemished skin and brown hair and wonder:

“Aren’t I supposed to be pretty at this age? Aren’t all teenage girls supposed to be bombshells?”

I was an anomaly, a mark on the perceived agility and beauty of all girls my age. I didn’t wear makeup, and I didn’t dress up. I feel that I missed out. I am not like the other girls with their hourglass figures or flat stomachs.

I am the ugly duckling in my family. Instead of being this flat stomached goddess, I am a rotund goblin. I wear makeup now, but it doesn’t make a lot of difference. Beauty is the evil that lays in wait right in front of our eyes.