so you get born. you're red, wrinkled, and screaming, but it's around 5am, so who can blame you, really?
you don't grow a lot of hair for a hell of a long time, but your grandma still manages to embarass you via hairstyle: a ponytail strategically placed in the centre of your forehead, in lieu of cutting your bangs, i guess.
you spend your early years in a communist-run eastern european country of which you're scarcely aware, being far too busy climbing trees and old abandoned tanks and overcoming some bed wetting issues caused, no doubt, by the single ponytail of your toddlerhood.
you do not care what you look like provided you are clean. you are a fastidious little thing with big staring blue eyes, serious as hell. i can't stress this enough: very very serious.
at one point, you are uprooted from the communist system and plonked into a capitalist system. you don't notice much. sure, the language changes, the stores stock many kinds of cheese, and suddenly, inexplicably, you are being taught french as well, but whatever. when people are mean to you, you do not put a chip on your shoulder and call them anti-immigrant. you merely figure they are assholes. you're very perceptive that way.
when you are eleven, you go to florida and discover that Clothes Matter. from then on, your life lacks the simplicity that marked the early years. from then on, you crave fashion. you also begin to hate your:
lack of breasts
not necessarily in that order. in fact, by the time you graduate from highschool, you will have convinced your parents to offer to pay for a nose job in poland. you will later reconsider, take the money and buy your first car. you will be far happier with the car than you would have been with some mythical Nice Nose. (although you might have been Discovered, and would even now be pursuing a career in hollywood: drugs, unsuccessful but well publicized relationships, crashed cars, drunk driving convictions, desperate pussy flashing publicity stunts, depression, and plenty of money...so, maybe you shouldn't have bought the damn car!...but you did.)
your teens are characterized by self-hatred, depression, intense creativity and a stupid inability to see how fucking gorgeous you are, a fact you will wish you could beat your younger self over the head with, repeatedly, and with much noise.
you have best friends, you fight, you make up, you fight again, you sneak on make-up despite not actually being allowed to wear any until grade ten, when you let loose and embrace the goth-lite look, not for any ideological reasons, but because you don't know any better. if you ever get glaucoma or cancer of the eyeball, you will blame your stupid teen self. you look at pictures and shudder. that's a hell of a lot of eyeliner, girlfriend!
you have smaller boned friends whose mothers insist on calling you big. yes, you are big. as in tall. big boned. beautiful and slim. but being a stupid teenager, you choose to believe them and thus spend years thinking you are fat (luckily you lack the will power to develop an eating disorder. thank god for your weak will.).
you do not get your first kiss till grade 12. it is worth the wait and your first boyfriend is everything a first boyfriend should be: polite, gentle, sensitive, artistic, sweet and handsome. until he dumps you and breaks your heart after three years and a secretly purchased engagement ring (when you find out much later that the ring was later stolen, you are very very happy. serves the bastard right!). it takes you a year to get over him and you spend a lot of time sitting in your room, staring at walls, talking to god.
then you discover sex and alcohol. you stop talking to god.
thus ends part one.