3 | My Name Is Lila

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Tap water cupped within my hands as I splashed away the cleanser foam spread across my face

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Tap water cupped within my hands as I splashed away the cleanser foam spread across my face. My eyes closed, blurred for a couple moments as my hands roamed for the face towel I kept to my left. The instinct was subconscious, grabbing the weekly-changed towel (today being purple) and patting my face until all of my morning face was gone.

When I opened my eyes, my vision cleared. I didn't notice my brown eyes, though they were staring back at me, but instead begin to judge and carry through my flaws.

I found my acne first; light but carried throughout my cheeks and forehead. I noticed my blemishes next, finding them next to acne scars and acne parts. It was bad, but at least I didn't look like it did in middle school. It took years for me to get to this; the condition it is now.

My eyes racked down my half-naked body; having them scan down my stomach and legs. My chest, the only good feature about me, was ignored over as I look down to my stomach, my thick thighs, my arms and butt.

I had a condition called KP, which cause itself to run a long line of red bumps and built up follicles on my arms and legs. It became problematic when I begin to notice that my friends: Raelynn, Naomi and Aubree, didn't share the same features I did. They didn't have bumpy skin but instead silky smooth ones. It became a issue so much, I like to cover up my arms with long-sleeves.

My eyes wander to my stomach and thighs for a good period of time, having always reminded that they carried a bit more fat than my friends. While my friends had long legs and tone stomach, I had a bit of a tummy tuck and thick thighs. I always hate looking at myself; having always found a mirror and saw this.

The inside of my mouth clawed by my teeth, biting on the side of my cheek. I tear my eyes away, looking down at the contact container on the side of my sink and switched into the blue contacts.

It took a few seconds to adjust to the lighting, blinking rapidly as tears caught down my cheeks, but when the vision begin to clear, I let out a heavy breath at my transition.

Step one: complete.

I walk out of the bathroom, heading over to my room. The lighting of the morning day was perfect for seeing my facial outlines, and when I sat a position on my makeup desk, I begin to do my features.

A regular makeup look for school took approximately thirty minutes; I had to gloss over my acne spots with concealer than heavy on some foundations. I had a different eyeshadow wear everyday, and always had matched them up with false lashes. Filling in my brows were second to last, and when finished, I tiptoed around finding the best lip-gloss from my collections.

When I finished, I had thirty minutes to spare. With the time presented, I changed into my outfit — a yellow Tommy Jeans sweatshirt, Adidas legging with their trademark white lines on the side, and yellow Nike Prestos.

My phone off of the charger as I clicked through Instagram, scrolling through my likes before heading downstairs for my morning breakfast.

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