The Girl Who Never Made the List
When I was twelve, the boys in my class had a tradition.
Every so often, they would write a list.
The ten prettiest girls.
The paper would travel from desk to desk.
Someone would add a name.
Someone would cross another out.
People debated who deserved to be there.
Mine never was.
It’s strange how something so ordinary can quietly become part of the way you see yourself.
I don’t remember all the names that made those lists.
I don’t even remember what most of those boys look like today.
But I remember what I started believing.
I’m just not one of the beautiful girls.
Children don’t know the…
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