an angel. (Can you see them?)
Pretty as a butterfly. (But
isn’t
that really just a glam bug?)
Cliché, invisible, or insectlike,
I grew up knowing I was
pretty and believing everything
good
about me had to do with how
I looked. The mirror was my best
friend. Until it started telling
me I wasn’t really pretty
enough.
Pale Beauty
That’s what my mom calls the gift
she gave me, through genetics.
We are Scandinavian willows,
with vanilla hair and glacier blue
eyes and bone china skin. Two
hours in the sun turns me the color
of ripe watermelon. When I lead
cheers at football games, it is wearing
SPF 60 sunblock. Gross. Basketball
season is better, but I’ll be glad
when it’s over. Between dance lessons
and vocal training and helping out
at the food bank (all grooming for Miss
Teen Nevada), I barely have time for
homework, let alone fun. At least
staying busy mostly keeps my mind