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From a queer perspective, the idea of embodying something genderless is incredibly empowering. But I understand not everybody wants to cosplay as a plant.

Saying I “grew up ugly” doesn’t mean I was ugly — it meant that I never quite fit in the way other people did, and that's especially difficult when you have been forced to adapt to different standards of beauty your whole life.

And looking back to the young girl who secretly shaved her legs, I see a girl who just didn’t know how to exist in a body that seemingly developed overnight. But most importantly I see a girl who thinks she is anything but beautiful. I see a girl who was wrong.

Beauty has always felt like this incomprehensible, elusive thing, forever outside of my reach. Running around with a tangled mane of hair and dirt on my face, what did beauty matter?

I tell her I used to wear makeup because I felt bad about my face, but I stopped because wearing makeup felt like covering it up rather than learning to accept it. It's the same argument I made to my mom and grandma. The same argument I still make to myself.

I didn’t believe I had anything to say that would spark someone’s genuine interest in getting to know me, so I relied on my outfits to do the heavy lifting. Then I discovered a new social skill to add to my toolbox: Compliments.

Standing at the grocery checkout with my mom, my eyes level with the Sports Illustrated model. I ask her questions but she doesn't respond. I wondered if she answered his questions. I wonder if he asked her any.

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