august 14th

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THIS IS MOST CERTAINLY the most put together I have looked all summer, I decide while twirling my reflection in the mirror.

My hair falls past my shoulders in loose curls, and a strand has been braided and clipped out of my face, which is currently accentuated with makeup. And not just my usual makeup, which consists of blots of concealer when necessary and a layer or two of mascara. Now, a coat of powder dusts my face, along with a faint dollop of blush on the apples of my cheeks. Shimmery gold eye shadow glimmers on my eyelids, and this time several layers of mascara have been swiped onto my lashes, extending them to lengths I previously thought unachievable. I pucker my berry-pink lips and sigh, wishing I didn't feel like such a fraud for feeling pretty.

After all, beauty is what lies beneath the surface and all, and I've got some pretty hideous demons lurking down there.

I slip on a floral pink dress and throw a jean jacket over top, then slide my feet into a pair of leathery brown sandals, completing the outfit. I should be feeling confident, but my stomach feels like it's filled with rocks and the added weight makes me second guess this supposed date I'm about to be going on.

Aunt Colleen knocks on my bedroom door, even though she's already seen me since she helped with the hair and makeup. I invite her to come in, and her face breaks out into an angelic expression of admiration when she sees the finished look.

"Lexi . . ." she marvels. "You look beautiful, honey."

I flush, but shoot her a smile nonetheless. "Thank you, Aunt Colleen. I couldn't have pulled this off without you."

She shakes her head. "No, you always look beautiful. You just look grown up like that." She pauses for a moment. "You look a lot like your mother," she adds softly.

I try to picture my mom looking young and carefree, but the only visual that I have of her consists of bags under her tired eyes and premature wrinkles from years of stress. Her fun and youthful days ended with my conception.

"What was she like?" I find myself asking, uncharacteristically. I don't usually badger Aunt Colleen with questions about my mom. "When she was my age, I mean."

Aunt Colleen takes a seat at the edge of my bed, patting the spot beside her in invitation for me to join her. She wraps an arm around me once I collapse down next to her.

"She had a wild spirit, your mom," she says, squeezing my shoulder. "She was easily the most liked girl in her high school class, and all the boys had crushes on her. You'd be amazed how confident she was. It was like she owned the place and she knew it, yet she never let it go to her head. Your mom had the biggest heart, too. She was always the one who put the mean kids in their place."

I smile faintly, glad to have these good memories of my mom to counteract the bad. It brings me comfort to know that at least at one point in her life, she was truly, genuinely happy.

Aunt Colleen sighs. "Lexi, love, I'm sure you miss your mom something terrible, because I miss her lots, too. But I want you to know that she's watching you, and she is so proud of you. Please, Lex, keep making your momma proud by going out and having fun and participating in experiences like this date you're about to go on. She would want you to live your life as unapologetically as she did. She never wanted you to live in constant guilt, honey."

I blink fast to prevent the tears pooling in my eyes from spilling and ruining my makeup. Even though I can't quite digest what she's saying, it means the world that she knows exactly what I need to hear. She's a true blessing, my aunt.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and I find myself dazed, not emotionally prepared to go out on a date and have—hopefully—fun after thinking about such a heavy topic.

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