The girl hated her eyes. They were too dark, too small, and too tired, she said. She hated how they looked like dirt. The girl thought that maybe, if her eyes were lighter, people would like her more. Maybe if they were the color of the sky, the sea, or the forest. She saw pictures of people with eyes like gemstones and violets. The girl thought that maybe, if her eyes were clearer, she would love herself.

The girl hated her lips. They were too thin, too round, and they talked too much, she thought. She hated how they didn’t have a cupid’s bow like everyone else. The girl thought that maybe, if her lips were a different shape, people would like her more. Maybe if they were the color of roses, or held perfect teeth, or were plumper. She saw people in commercials with bright, big lips. The girl thought that maybe, if her lips were pinker, she would love herself.

The girl hated her body. It was too big, too pale, and too human, she thought. She hated that she didn’t look like a figurine. The girl thought that maybe, if she were skinnier, people would like her more. Maybe if she looked like a model or a Disney princess. She saw people with perfect skin and bodies on magazine covers. She thought that maybe, if she looked like them, she would love herself.

Another girl hated her own eyes. They were cold and blue. She hated how they made her look like a bug. She hated her puffy lips and cupid’s bow. She hated her body that was too skinny. She wished she looked like that girl at school with dark, doe eyes like pools of maple syrup, lips without that cupid’s bow that she detested. She wanted her body to look like hers. The other girl knew that if she looked like that girl, she would love herself.