Suffocating girl with a shiitake-colored face.
—Kim Hyun
We all want to look good. And from so far back
(was it that far?) we have tried. It is oh so sub
jective, this good looking. And how harsh we
can be, thinking ourselves on the perimeter, out
of bounds (way outside the boundary), butt ugly.
It’s a ridiculous thing that is perpetuated from day
to day, from month to month and year to year. WE
DO NOT LOOK GOOD! Who says? Mama? Daddy?
And why was that? How long ago? Still, it rings in
our ears. Or perhaps that perception came from the
books we’d read alone in our rooms every day and
night (flashlights under the covers). “How old were
you when you realized you were sexy?” asks Chuck,
the gay cheerleader. “Forty-five,” answers Fred, the
dance-a-holic. To be Fred. Oh, to be Fred. And last
forever and a day past forty-five on that dancefloor.
