I remember when I was in the eighth grade, I was riding to school with my best friend when her mom had labeled me a "Plain Jane." Added to my already low self-esteem, this title hit me hard, I recall being very introspective; yearning that I could just once be "that girl" that walks into a room, and people begin stumbling over their conversations because they had caught sight of me. Over the years, "Plain Jane" attempted to adapt: lipstick was applied, eye shadow was placed perfectly on my eyelids, and clothing was picked out that would be fitting to the trends of those who were "eye-catchers." Little did I know that my solid attempts made me even more unrecognizable than before, because now I was wearing what every other girl was wearing; still, in a bouquet of roses, I was the baby's breath. Now, many years later, I am sitting here, still introspective, concerning myself with the fact that once I let someone else's label of me define me; it is sad how influenceable little girls can be. Signed, Yours truly, Jane.