That stupid little dress. Making her think she could be beautiful. She was fine with dressing the way she did everyday. Baggy jeans or sweatpants, plain shirt, and a black jacket with little skulls on it. Ratty sneakers. No makeup. She was fine with her hair at shoulder length. It kinda made her look like a boy. Which is why she cut it that way. Pretending she was a boy made it easier to accept that she wasn't beautiful. Her tiny breasts that refused to grow evenly-even after sixteen years of praying for the best-made it easier to play into the fantasy of being a boy.

But one night she was home alone. She looked at the clock on the laptop and realized it was getting late, and she hadn't picked anything out to wear to school tommorow yet. She already had an outfit in mind. A pair of baggy jeans she hadn't worn in a few days and a plain black shirt. And of course, her black jacket with little skulls on it. But as she was digging through her shirt drawer she came across a strange little item, one she did not see often.

It was a dress.

The dress was was knees' length. It was white, black, and grey. Business colors. White from the shoulders to the waist. Then there was a think black strip. Almost like a belt. And it was grey from there to the end. It was cute. One could wear it to school, and she would look grownup, sexy, appealing.

She remembered where she got it. It was a Christmas gift from her grandmother.

She stood there for a moment, looking at the beautiful little dress. It was as if her and the dress were frozen in time, in their one little world.

"Wear me." The dress told her. "I'll make you beautiful."

So the girl slipped the dress on. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked...beautiful...she hoped....she thought...

It makes me look beautiful....right?


But something was missing. The dress wasn't complete on its own. She looked at her legs. Her legs needed something.

Jeans, she thought. Wear jeans under the dress. And not her baggy boy jeans. Jeans that would hug her legs, but not make her look sluty. So she dug through her pants until she found a pair of jeans that looked like they could play the part she wanted them to. She put the jeans on too. And normally jeans wouldn't go well with a dress, but these jeans complimented it nicely.

"My hair." she thought. Something had to be done to it. No way to make it grow longer, but she could add something to it, right? But she didn't have hair accessories. She never did anything with her hair. The only thing she could think of that she had was a black hat she had, one with sparkles on it. It was cute. It was stylish.

She placed it on her head.

Now, she was on a mission.

She looked beautiful.

She could be beautiful.

She could.



She ran through her tiny home, looking for anything that she thought she could add to her outfit.

A silky scarf.

A pink cloth bag with a heart/peace sign on it.

Two cute little bracelets.

She put on a padded bra to atleast make her beasts look even.


Then her face.

Something had to be done to it.

She didn't have many makeup products, but she decided she could make due with what she had. So she grabbed her coverup, and smoothed it across her face. She took her latte flavored lip gloss and put it on her lips. She took her eyeshadows and tried different colors, till she decided which one she liked best.

And then she was done.

She stood there, looking in the mirror. In her business like dress, silky scarf, sparkly hat, even breasts, and in all her madeup glory. She looked cute. She looked appealing. She looked stunning. She looked sexy. She looked beautiful!

I am beautiful!


...Yeah, right.




Your not beautiful. You'll never be beautiful.


So stop trying!

It won't work.

I'm sorry but its the truth.

No, I am beautiful...I am...I am...

Are you? Look in the mirror again.

She looked. And she saw. She saw the truth. There was no beauty there. Only the sad and pathetic dreams she had always carried with her. But thats all they were. Dreams. Not reality. They never could be reality.

I'm not beautiful.

Thats right. Your not.

Beauty only goes to good girls. And your not a good girl, are you? You tell people you don't have dark secrets, that you haven't done anything wrong. You tell yourself that your not all to blame for your crappy life. That your family must take some of the blame, right. Thats what you told youself.



Lie to yourself all you want!

Go ahead!

Your already a sinner.

Sin some more.





And that was it.

The end.

She threw the jeans off, tossed the hat across the room, shook the bracelets off her wrists and put them on a chair. She scrubbed at her face, hard, until the makeup washed off and was gone, with no trace left behind. She stuffed the scarf back in the drawer. Stuck the pink bag back where she had found it.

And last but not least...

The dress.

The dress that had started it all. She took it off. Looked at it.

"Thanks for trying," she told the dress. Then she folded it up, and put it back in the drawer she had found it in. She stacked the rest of her clothes on top of it, so she wouldn't have to see it again.

That stupid dress.

Making her think she could be beautiful.

I'm sorry.

But its the truth.

Her eyes hurt.

They stung.

They were wet.

And the next day, she went to school in baggy jeans, a plain black shirt, and a black jacket with little skulls on it.