Flying Bento Box

This is an essay I wrote for a writing course during my third year at university. Parts of it are truths and parts of it are fictional but that doesn't really matter because the message, the meaning behind this is important.  Women. Strength. Confidence. and Beauty. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~             I was four years old when I first wore makeup. “Look how beautiful you were!” my mother said. She showed me an old, slightly creased photo. In it, a bewildered little Vietnamese girl stood next to an untamed rose bush, holding a giant red rose.  Perplexed, I studied the picture a little longer, a little closer to make sure she was really me. She had a pale, white face tinted with slightly pink blush on her plump round cheeks. Bright red dainty lips completed the image—a true, living doll. “She can’t be me,” I thought.   Growing up, I was quite the tomboy. I ran wild like the wind, laughing ...

I feel like we've lost ourselves. All those products to clear away all the dirt on our skin, then to moisturize  because the last product stripped off the natural oils, and then on top of that, only to layer it with separate oils from a bottle. And what if you got acne? That means you must take extra good care of your skin, spend all your money and effort to get rid of the pimples on top, and obsess over your red bumps: touching it, looking at it, squeezing it, covering it with layers of make up to seem "normal." Because the flawless skin you see on T.V., in the movies, or on YouTube is "normal," right?  Let me tell you, I've been an acne sufferer for 12 years. It started when I was in middle school; my first self conscious moment was when my friend pointed out the gigantic volcano forming on my nose. I went home that day and popped that thing like no tomorrow (still have a scar from it too) and from that day on, I found myself standing in front of the mir...