food and nutrition


Ugly

Question: UGLY!???!!!?!?!?!!??!?!?!?!?!!? This isn't really a question. It's more of a message. You probably thought this was another unconfident, and/or look obsessed girl, asking hundreds of random internet people if they were "ugly" or not. Guess what? It isn't. Hello, my name is Samantha. I am 13 years old and live in a small town in New Jersey. Please, I plead for your undivided attention, for 10 short minutes of your busy lives, to read this very brief story; because I advise you it may change your life. Especially teenage girls. Ugly By Samantha C The date is January 7th, 2010. The Sony alarm clock's time reads 5:30, and Q104 is blasting Lady Gaga's, "Just Dance." Most of my classmates right now are most likely eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes, hopping into a pair of American Eagle jeans, slapping lip gloss over their pouty lips, or for the lazy ones who show up to school with wet hair and a poptart in their mouth, hitting the snooze button. I, however, am not doing any of the above. I am crying. I look in the mirror. "Look at those big, chubby, Charlie Brown cheeks," echoes that little bully that tears me apart every morning in my head. "And, eww! Those pimples! Red blemishes all over your face. UGLY." Then, I remember what a real guy had said to me. My biggest crush at the time, Dylan. "I'd NEVER go out with you. Your fat. Your ugly. And your weird." The waterworks sprinkling down my face like the Amazon Rain Forest in a storm become even heavier, as if that was even possible. I look into the figure mirror. My belly is big and my face has an almost double chin. "I'm UGLY." says, this time, Samantha, not the bully, or Dylan. "No one could EVER like ME! EVER! I mean look at me!!!! I'm like some awful troll!" I run into the bathroom and start rubbing powders and rogues and concealers and foundations all over my face. I'm still ugly. I put eyeshadow and mascara and eyeliner and glitter all over my eye. I'm still ugly. I rub lip gloss and tints and plumpers all over my lips. I'm still ugly. I'm still not dressed. I'm still crying. And to make things worse, my mom says, "Hurry up! The bus will be here in 10 minutes!" I quickly dash to get dressed. I try on everything in my wardrobe. Everything is UGLY. Not the clothes, of course, but on me they become old rags. There is a nice form fitting blue top. "That's to ugly on me." says Samantha, "it makes you look fat." I put on a huge, baggy T-Shirt, that goes down to my knees. It could fit my dad. Heck, it could probably fit a great dane. I don't care. I'm still ugly, why bother? "SAMANTHA!" Mom shouts, "You missed the bus AGAIN! Hurry UP!!!" I look in the mirror. This time my teardrops are black. Teardrops of death. The eyeliners and mascaras and makeup all drip off my face. "NO!!" I shout back at her. "NO!!!!! I'm NOT going to school!!" She walks in, takes all my makeup, and throws it in the garbage. I wail harder. "NOW CAN YOU GO TO SCHOOL!?!?!" her red furious face bellows. "N..n....NO!!!!" I manage to reply through the gasping for breath in my tears. She, being a very strong lady, carries me into the car and manages to get me into the school building, late, crying, as she bans me from all electronics and friends for a month. The second part didn't matter. Friends were non-existent in my life. My mom didn't know that though. I try to clean up before walking into the classroom. But my nose is still pink, my eyes are still red, and black blurs still frame my eyes. I walk in the classroom, holding back more tears. Peers start calling me "Cry Baby!" which eventually accentuates into a song to the tune of Patty Cake that goes, "Baby Face, Baby Face, cries black tears, big and fat as Mount Rainier!" I put my head down. Humiliated. As the year continued, I'd become anorexic, emo, and almost suicidal. Friendless, lonely, and depressed, I felt AWFUL. I got a lot of therapy and help, and by June, I felt great about myself. And looking back, I had realized, there was NOTHING wrong with me. I lost a lot of weight, learned to apply makeup correctly, and most importantly, became confident. I then made 20 friends in a week. The teasing stopped. I even got asked out a couple times. Now I am very happy and feel very fortunate. In conclusion, I'm not a supermodel. I'm not extremely hot. I'm not perfect. I DON'T CARE! I DON'T EXPECT TO BE! TAKE THAT WORLD! I love me for my flaws, the few pimples, the tiny bit of baby fat still lingering even after I lost weight. Guys, stop looking for Megan Fox glossed up girlfriends, cause most of you aren't so hot either. Look INSIDE. Realize you are whatever you want to be. People will love you for being kind and happy, and most of all, yourself. I want you to post your promise, to no long This got cut off!!! >:( It had said "To no longer judge you, or yourself by the outside, and to only describe someone as, "ugly", if they are a mean person.; To give everyone and everything a chance, including you. To smile with the pain. To not expect to be a supermodel. To love YOU and your flaws! Post a comment promising to do these things if your up to it. -SMILE! ♥ , Sammy :)

Answer: I've noticed that most kids named Dylan are douchebags.


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