Till the age of 11, she was adorable. This much is obvious. Perhaps it all went downhill when she began wearing glasses. She began twitching her nose, to adjust the constantly slipping spectacles. Or maybe puberty did a bad job.
She thumbs through her childhood photographs. Those eyes! Piercing through the space, staring back. But in later years, she notices how she looks away from the camera. Her skirts are at that strange midway length. They hang around her calves. Flapping, ungraceful. Not the smart knee length. Or the comforting ankle kissing fall. Stopping midway. The word Awkward grips her mind.
Everything is lumpy and shapeless. Without the glow of pre-pubescence. It makes her want to rip apart every photograph from those years. From 11 to 16, each time, blinking away, wanting to vanish. Wanting to disappear. And now, many years later, she smudges the edges of the photographs, struggling to love herself in those awkward years.