  I remember so distinctly being a scared, skinny twelve year old staring back at the dirty mirror in a Macy's dressing room. The glaring light beat down on my stringly hair and gawky limbs. I remember so clearly tugging at a pair of bell bottoms that were too big and not right and watching as a silent tear fell down my freckled cheek. You see, when you're little the world doesn't seem to care at all. I've grown up from that little girl into something more. Last night I sat cross- legged in front of my own mirror in designer jeans and a victoria secrets bra and pushed back a lock of hair. Biting my lip I came to realize that my body may have grown up, my hair may have become more stylish, and my friends increasingly more high profile and abundant, but I am still that little girl. To society I have always been an abberation. You've all tried to pin me down as one teenage experiment but I can't tell you the hours of self pity I have accumulated.I have popular friends, gorgeous amazing boyfriends, wonderful parents and a beautiful home but inside I still am deep within a dimly lit Macy's store, trying so hard to fit in and just be part of the teenage masses.
I remember wearing those bell bottoms to the first day of sixth grade, so nervous and hoping just anyone would talk to me. I remember just as well going to first period and tripping in the door to have some 6th grade punk laugh at my shirt and pants and hair. I was gawky yes, but ironically the same boy commented on how pretty I was just last week. To all of you, I've grown into something pretty and funny and strong.
TO me, I'm still stuck tugging at a poorly cut shirt and trying so desperately to figure out why you all laugh at me behind my back. When you're little, the world doesn't seem to care. When you're big, you come to the realization it just doesn't. So this is a story, a tale of a little girl who has grown into her body, but has yet to grow up. 
