I used to hate my first name,it chafed itched like a poorly made wool sweater.Like Anne of Green Gables I regularly came up with names that I liked better than mine.I believed for quite a while that my name was nothing special, though not quite as disposable as those sticker labels that say “hello my name is _____ .” I tan very easily and keep it for longer than most people, I have brown hair and eyes so for about half a year my skin tone fairly well matches the rest of me. I used to think that the lack of color contrast made me forgettable. It’s actually something I still have to struggle against on a regular basis. I’m short and the fact that I have to sit down most of the time makes me even shorter than my actual height,is very frustrating I’m here to tell you. It’s very frustrating to be short enough that you can barely see over the counter at the bank where you have an account. I find myself biting my tongue to control my frustration because the teller behind the counter is no more personally responsible for the counter height then you are for your own. A better person to have a discussion with would probably be the building architect, but since they rarely are inside the building at the same time you are it is unlikely that scenario will ever happen. I sound much younger than I really am when I’m talking to someone who doesn’t know me on the phone. I have been hung up on so many times that I have to talk to someone I’ve just met over the phone about business I warn them ahead of time that I will probably sound young. In spite of all of this I have noticed that with each passing year I am just a little bit more comfortable in my skin, considering that I very nearly committed suicide as a teenager in high school and that wasn’t so long ago I realize I still have long way to go, but I also know that being able to smile at the mirror in the mornings is a step in the right direction and someday all those baby steps will add up to running, free of the emotional baggage and chains I’ve been carrying around like the female version of Marley’s ghost for a large portion of my life.Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?It may not be me but at least I know I’m not half bad.