The girl I see is not acceptable.
I must cover, blend, and smooth the unseemly features of her face.
I grab my magic bag, a small orange bag with white polka-dots,
And begin to pull out my supplies.
Foundation, pressed powder, eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara, lipstick.
No freckles, no blemishes.
Are those bags under her eyes?
No one must know of her struggles.
Stop shaking, you must be precise.
She must be perfect.
Careful now, don’t smear, don’t smudge!
There, done. 
Deep break, smile, don’t break.
I step back.
The girl I see is not acceptable.