By Tabitha LaPointe

If my child ever asks me if she will be pretty, I will laugh and respond, “No, my child, you will never be pretty.” This is because she will never be our manipulative version of pretty.

Society is like a living organism that throbs with life, as it evolves and changes, leaving those behind with the unaligned faces and the misshapen eyes. Society runs to the bump-bump rhythms of an ongoing nightmare that many of us wake up to, wishing we were still asleep.

We sweat the beads of proportion as the times grow older, and the organism evolves, as we remain the uncharacterized utility known as: ugly, fat, rude, whore, lame, nerd, not good enough.

We live in a society where we are told to believe the silicone stick figures are the source of reality, and that the rest of us are living on the outside norms of basic civil disobedience. And the girls who chant the rhythmic tones of perfection are no more perfect than those with the crooked nose, the jumbled teeth, and the rolled-over skin.

No one is perfect in the game of life. No one is. But we always take the gamble, hoping for a seven, wishing for a simple pair when we already know the opponent is mechanically registered to somehow magically move the cards on the table as if they have a magnet attached underneath to allow a royal flush built just for their own dignity.

So I will say, “No, my daughter you will never be pretty. You will be more than the fake lies fed to us through the tube, because we are incapable of feeding ourselves our own perceptions. You will be my beautiful little sunshine rising in the east in the morning, and fading into oblivion at night in the west. You will be strong, confident, and pulchritudinous. My daughter, you will never be pretty. You will be not pretty. You will never be just pretty.”

King’s Fork High School student Tabitha LaPointe is an aspiring author, hoping to one day pursue creative writing at an Ivy League school. Email her at lapointetabitha@gmail.com.