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Personal Narrative Of Being A Girl

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My grandma always told me to act like a lady. She would put into my mind that I should always sit with my legs crossed and never talk with food in my mouth. My grandma was the ultimate lady. Maybe I didn’t know what being a lady was all about back then, but I assure you that I know now. I was six years old, dressed in pink, dreaming of one day when I would become a princess. That day never came. Little did I know what being a girl would entail in the future. Soon I would be thirteen, putting on a cake-face of makeup and new clothes that my mom barely approved of so I could get the attention of the boy that sat next to me in math class. Then I turned eighteen and still had to look my best when I was trying to get into a sorority at Michigan State University. I wanted to be six again. I wanted my mom to dress me, do my hair, and have nothing to worry about. Being a girl is and always will be hard. I have been worried about my looks my whole life. It was most evident when I began junior high and things were changing. Girls started getting curvier, wearing makeup and getting prettier. We were compared to the models that we would see in our Cosmo magazines. In Junior High, my parents bought me a phone, therefore, I downloaded every social media that ever existed. I would post the pictures that I looked best in because appearances were everything. A girl at any age is afraid of being judged and it seems that for me, as a

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