I look in the
mirror and see a girl slightly awkward; legs like sticks and a body lacking
shape. What is the price of acceptance? I grab my coat and purse and head to
the store, looking for ways to feel better. As I walk down each isle, I cannot
help but notice the lights glaring uninvitingly down on me. My ears fill with
the sound of the old eighties music that plays softly in the back-round. I
reach the make-up isle and cannot help but feel like I am picking a new mask. I
try on different colors hoping that one will make me stand out. All I want is
to be beautiful. In the check-out line I glance at the cover of Cosmopolitan.
The girl on it is wearing a small red dress. She is flawless with her curls
lightly brushing her golden shoulders. I suddenly look to my make-up products
and silently wish they were a magic potion – making me just as stunning as the
girl on the magazine cover.
Now I am walking
through the Apple store. The phones and computers lay in brightly lit cases. I
look over my shoulder and watch as a salesman dressed in khaki pants wearing a
big white smile comes over to me and says, “Can I help you with anything
ma’am?”. I shake my head no because I somehow feel exposed. Somehow he knows my
bank balance and that I couldn’t possibly afford anything in the store. I look
longingly at all the gadgets, thinking that if I just had a nice phone my life
would be so much better.
America. This is my America.
