What she tells me

“Stand up straight and stop slouching,” Her voice echoed in my head and I started walking with my back a little more straight even though it hurt a bit as my backpack was really heavy. She said it would give me confidence and show off my figure, but instead it gave me back pain and people looking at me. I never liked to be the center of attention. I was quiet, even as a kid I just wanted to be left by myself. Then puberty hit.
“Not bad,” I remembered bits of the conversation from this morning, “But still average. You can see some acne on your forehead still and there is a bit you didn't blend in properly so your skin looks like an alien but still, not bad for you. Practically a miracle to get your lazy ass to look this good in the morning.”
She means well, after all, she is my friend. Well, sort of. We've been together since middle school, her and I. She was always helping me look my best but her version is always involving tough love. I will admit I think it hurts more than it helps, but at least she is looking out for my best interests.
“Remember to smile!” Her voice echoed again, “People love girls who smile!”
Of course I had to remember that as this old guy was staring at me on the shuttle. I gave a very weak smile, but I bet it looked like a grimace. Like I was letting out a fart or something. He turned away at that point and I moved my eyes over to the window as I counted the stops till my dorm.
Entering my dorm room, I sighed as I collapsed, catching a glimpse of her out of the vanity mirror on my desk.
“Come on now,” I could hear her behind me as I looked into the mirror, “You need to get going and oh my God did you rub your hands all over your face!? Your make up looks absolutely destroyed. Thank God we are going to be switching to a night time look for this date.”
“Oh yeah, that,” I was tired and had almost forgotten. James, a boy in my Introduction to Algorithms course, had asked me out for a quick dinner date tonight. He was really handsome, to the point she didn't believe it when she found out. Of course, she had to help my look. I always seemed to screw it up myself.
“Get in the shower, wipe off your make up and get back in here to get dressed pronto,” She glared behind me, we only have four hours till your date and we have a LOT of work to do. Remember average is okay...”
“But perfection is necessary.”
In the shower I focused on how I could dress up for tonight. I probably went through a thousand ideas of what could work but I knew she would shut down half of them so I wanted to keep it less outlandish. I tried to keep it simple, though a part of me wanted to be at least a bit fancy. To maybe even dare to impress James.
“You're not going to impress him so don't even try,” She told me when she heard I wanted to impress him, “Just try not to look like a complete mess.”
“I won't,” I stared into the mirror at my flat hair, brown flat hair that didn't do anything interesting, “Maybe a bun?”
“Nothing says gorgeous like old lady librarian,” She retorted, “Just put it up into a ponytail, keep it really simple so you can't screw it up.”
“But, what about a-”
“No, not that stupid butterfly hair clip, what are you? Five?”
“Oh, right...”
“Just stick with the ponytail, trust me.”
I nodded as I put my hair up into a ponytail. It didn't look good, but at least it didn't look bad.
“Now, you got your outfit all laid out let's put it on and see if you can manage to keep those melons from escaping,” She pointed to my large chest and I blushed. It was one thing I really hated about puberty, I was among the few girls that seemed like they wouldn't stop growing. I was an E cup by high school when they finally stopped. I almost got a breast reduction, but mom said we couldn't afford it and dad just laughed. I tried not to cry at the memory as I slipped my sweater and jeans on, then looked in the mirror.
“It will have to do,” She sighed as she shook her head, “You still look like you are smuggling watermelons but at least it doesn't look obvious. Now sit down, we're going to do make up.”
“But-”
“But what? You want to look hideous?”
“I don't look hideous,” I muttered softly as I knew I made a mistake, preparing for the backlash.
“You really think that?” She stood right behind me, breathing down my neck, “We've known each other for how long? Forever right? You have never looked good, trust me. I am the only one that will tell you the truth. Do you really think mom and dad are telling you that you look beautiful because it is true? No, it's because you are their daughter. Do you think boys and men look at you because you're attractive? No, it's because you are easy prey that they can get their hands on. Everyone smells your need to be wanted and they are going to take advantage of it until you start listening to me. The more attractive you are the more men you can manipulate to get ahead in life. So come on, we're going to need a lot of concealer to cover this up.”
I nodded, there was no use in fighting now. She was right, she was always right. As I put it on, I could hear her arguing about what spots I was missing and how I could do a lot better. I tried to keep my tears at bay as she spoke, each word hitting like a dagger.
“Come on, stop crying,” She growled, “That's as good as we're gonna get, you pizza face. Now, finish your base. Then it's eye liner, eye shadow, mascara, lipstick, blush...”
“It's too much...”
“Too much? It is what is necessary to fix you! Get to work!”
Each stroke of the make up brush, the lipstick running across my lips, and the mascara touching my face just hurt. It was a reminder that I was never going to look good enough for any guy without all this hard work. It was going to be like this forever. Constantly having her berate me, judge me for my appearance.
“Ugh, we're going to have to start over, something went horribly wrong here,” She glanced over my look, “That color of eye shadow is clashing with your eyes, your lipstick makes you look like a whore, your mascara is all over the place because you wouldn't suck it up and stop crying.”
“I-I don't have time!” I pointed to the clock, only five minutes before I had to get going.
“Well then cancel for all I care,” She rolled her eyes, “After all, I bet it was a pity date. What guy would even want to date you?”

I whimpered as I wrote a quick text to James, telling him I couldn't make it and I was feeling sick from lunch. I didn't look to see his response when my phone went off. I ran over to my door, locking it.
“Yeah, that's right. This is why you are never going to have someone, why you are going to die alone and why no one cares about you! You're pathetic, you're worthless! You are ugly!”
I threw a towel onto the mirror, curling up into my bed of my lonely dorm room crying. I was tired of seeing her. I was tired of seeing me.