Thursday, July 5, 2012

the last book I ever read (Lizz Free or Die, excerpt three)

from Lizz Winstead's Lizz Free or Die: Essays:

I pulled a small mirror from my purse. It was worse than I could have imagined. Every zit I had tried to cover up was a neon spot on my face. I looked like a teen runaway pinball machine. How was I to know Clearasil was a glowing agent, and that the second I neared the dance floor, trying to impress guys from other schools, I turned into a Lite-Brite board?

Then I really freaked out.

How many times had this also happened to me at Spencer Gifts?

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