Let’s skip the hair.
I’ve been told I have a heart shaped face, the most attractive of the face shapes, the cutest, and most appealing to boys. I would like to think it’s that simple, but seeing as this face hasn’t attracted any boys in my eighteen years I assume that my brain shaped itself into a heart to accommodate for that small, black bicycle pump in my chest. My over thinking, whimsical, self indulging brain, that Igor would have for sure taken as a replacement to the one he dropped. I new there was always a reason my dad told me they wanted my first name to be Abby and my middle name be Normal.
You know what’s a fun makeup trick, putting the eye shadow beneath your eyes instead of on the lid, I think it could really be a cool new trend. I would suggest using purples and blues, but make sure to put a nice dot of red towards the inner edge of your eye. Also, if you’re feeling crazy, add in some lines with blue eyeliner. I pull it off pretty well, don’t I?
My humps, my humps, my uneven lady lumps. Chicken cutlet is my right boob’s best friend. I never thought they would be so close, they just bumped into each other one day and since then they’ve just been two peas in a pod. They always greet each other with a bear hug and they always have to sit next to each other on the bus(t).
My hands always like to crack jokes. The worst part is that they do it at the most inappropriate times. During church, especially during the homily, Right Hand loves to tell inappropriate jokes that leave Left Hand cackling for minutes. In reply, Left Hand will make a lewd comment that chokes out a short laugh from Right Hand that he tries so hard to contain he usually ends up overextending himself. The worst is during class when a joke will be so funny that the entire body starts cracking up.
My legs have been defined by dermatologists as chicken legs. You know when you look at raw chicken skin and it has all those dots where the feathers were plucked from, that’s me. I am speckled all over with little red dots. I cannot remember not having these speckles, I must have been born with feathers.
Yeah, I work out, you surprised? I usually do a lot of muscle-focused mouth training. I start off with breakfast, really more of a warm up to the intense weightlifting that I do during the rest of the day. Lunch is usually my rest period, more mumbles to myself, nothing that requires any effort. After dinner is when I go hardcore. The exercise includes singing, gossiping, blabbing, whispering, laughing, questioning, and joking.
I’ve always wanted to visit the desert, so on one cold, winter’s day I traveled down to my hand. I immediately felt parched, the cracked lines opening up for some small droplet of water. The red sand radiated with streaks of pink and white. As I traveled farther, becoming more parched I came to an oasis. There was pool of red water on the top of a great hill, but as soon as I arrived it dried up and seeped back into the cracks.
Still ignoring the hair.
- Why would somebody want to read this piece (the “Who cares?” factor)?
- Can you clearly identify the author’s intention for the piece?
- How well does the author support the intention of the piece? Cite specific details that support or take away from the author’s intention.
- Is there information missing from this piece that would make its intention clearer? What else would you like to know?
- Does the author portray herself as a round character? How does she do this?
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- How clearly does the author establish a sense of setting/space in this piece? Cite specific details that support your claim.
- How clearly does the author establish characters other than the self in this piece? Cite specific details that support your claim.
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- Would you read more writing from this author? Why or why not?