She?

I look in the mirror. Must look great, on stage in front of everyone.

The pants show off my waist and the skirt shows off my legs. Neither one helps my butt. I hate my butt.

I choose the skirt.

I do my hair and nails and walk into the kitchen. Dad is waiting for me.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

I nod. He looks at my outfit. “Today I have a daughter.”

I should have chosen the pants. “Maybe you could see a brilliant child?” I say.

“My valedictorian will knock them dead,” he says.

Will I?

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