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Those makeover shows always give us the thrill of watching homely girls become great beauties. They learn how to dress, how to pluck their eyebrows so they don’t look like cave women, how to walk, do their makeup, everything.
What do you do if you want the opposite? I already am the beauty—I’m not being conceited, it’s just true. If I’m supposed to tell the truth in this life, then it has to include this: I am a really pretty girl.
I have a nice body. Five-foot nine. Muscular arms and thighs from doing sports all my life. A flat stomach. Nice breasts, nice butt. A pretty face. Thick blond hair that looks good whether it’s down and combed or up in a sloppy ponytail like I don’t care about it. Well, I do care—or at least I did—because I knew the effect I have on people. They like to lo
