I've looked through many magazines and so far and I've only found one that doesn't make me feel like a beluga. "Southern Cuisine," with all of the middle-aged American families who are making the transition to obesity. I  moved the the more-of-a-cookbook-then-a-magazine to the side and picked up "Seventeen" with Zac Efron and his newest barbie doll beside him. The headline was decked out in gossip, glamour, and making size TOO SKINNY look good.I let out a deep sigh as I turned the page to a Neutrogena ad, and the model obviously did not need any more skin cream with her naturally lush bronze skin. I couldn't help but watch as a tear hit the page, right on the pretty woman's face. Even perfect cries too.
     I skipped to page six even though my heart told me not to. I took a breath as i flipped, knowing the imminent hit at my self esteem that would come. Apparently septum rings are the new fad and would make anyone look good. If you have the plastic surgery face for it. That's what they always mean, like those TV commercials with the side details that they say too quickly to try to con you out of your money. How could you wear a hole through your nose anyway? Well, I bet Johnny Depp could pull that off AND make it look like it was sent down by the gods. But me? I'd look like a tired runt of a bull.
     I was actually having a good day (as good as it usually is) but this gunshot of a magazine brought me down to an all time low. I picked myself off of my bed, feeling no motivation to get up anyhow. I honestly wanted to just sink into my mattress. I walked into my bathroom and examined myself in the mirror which was reflecting the ceiling light a bit too bright. Through squinted eyes I could see I messed up my hair.  I got my hairspray out of my drawer and gave myself a quick spritz. I realized that my hair would never be the way the people in Hollywood have it and I put the bottle back.
     Get pretty. Get smart. Get hot. Get worthy of looking in a mirror. Do you see yourself? What's with all the zits and the greasy hair? Discount on potato chips? You don't deserve to eat! My mind bored into my heart, trying to convince me. No! I'm the opposite! I am... I am! Am I?
     Why did I have to be the different boy? The one that loves cute little dorky things, the one that would bring you soup when you were sick, the one that strives for the 100 and takes a shot at the heart when he gets a 98? Why do I have to be the ugly one?
     No one likes your hair. Go cut your head in a lawnmower. Everyone hates your green eyes that look like you spilled spinach on a perfect jade. No one likes YOU!
     "SHUT UP!" The vibrations radiated in my eardrums. It was a good thing I was home alone, because this time my parents would have called the Insanity hotline. I was a no one. I'm still a no one. An ugly no one. Not perfect like I should be.