For my fifteenth birthday, I got a beautiful mirror adorned with pearls and jewels and gems. It came to me covered in a cloth, with a message written in permanant marker. It read,”Do not lift the cover, or even take a glance into the mirror,”. I didn’t listen. I lifted the cover, and I saw exactly who I wanted to be. When I checked the bathroom mirror, what I saw there changed too. I loved it. I wished for many things any girl my age would want to wish for regarding their looks. I discovered it could even give me accesories like purses or headbands. Then I got cocky. I didn’t care about anyone or anything. I just wanted to look the best. Girls envied me. Boys wanted me. I was at the top of the social hierarchy. Then one day, my appearance turned red. I checked in the mirror. I wasn’t actually red. But every day after that, I became even uglier until I became my normal self, and my reflection started looking like a demon, with red skin and stout horns. I cried. I begged to stay home from school with my baby doll eyes, but it didn’t work. My mother looked at me and horror and asked me what the look was for. I ran to my room crying and locked my door. I cried and cried and cried until I was forced to come out. I was in there for days. I had come to resemble what was in the mirror: a monster. My once perfectly pink cheeks were now sunken in and gray in the mirror. I was too skinny, and I was weak. My hair disheveled and a dead gray. My sixteenth birthday came soon. I made sure to always read the labels.