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I wake up at eleven and sleepy mouth smile and dance around to Avril Lavigne. I brush my teeth and examine my skin for blemishes and pucker my lips to apply lipstick (Souffle de Rose by Dior) and lipgloss. I am scared that I am turning into one of those girls that I hate. Everything I wear is from either American Eagle or Victoria's Secret. I work on one of Mozart's sonatas and then bike a few miles after breakfast (Skim Milk and Frosted Flakes). I consider making a sandwich for lunch, but remember that I have stopped eating bread, meat, and cheese. Watching my weight, you see. But regardless of calories, I am drinking White Russians of Kahlua and milk with a splash of vodka by three o'clock. I play cards with my daddy, scan through my mail, and study for my French tests. I have given up on poetry and good movies. I am turning into one of those girls that I hate. I only watch movies about princesses and unicorns. I hate unicorns.