In My Own Skin

Standards

**The picture above is a plate of carne guisada for those who are curious**

**I do not own the rights to any of the pictures displayed throughout this ebook unless I specifically state it**

-This is my first attempt at writing a published book. Please comment, share and let me know if you like it or would want to see more. Thanks everyone! Love you guys dearly!

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My first memories consist of my Abuelas cooking filling up our house with the smell of arroz, carne guisada and platanos maduros. Salsa music would fill the air with island beats and her gasps at the latest schemes of her favorite telenovelas could be heard from a mile away. She would tell my cousins and me to play outside so we wouldn't disturb her in the cocina or else we would get la chancla.

NOTHING struck more fear into the hearts of Latin kids than la chancla!

I remember on one really sunny day, my cousin Valeria and I were playing Power Rangers in the yard.

"Okay, I'm Pink Ranger!" Valeria announces smugly.

"No fair! I wanted to be the pink ranger! Why do you always get to be her?!" I huffed at her. Out of the two of us, Valeria was always the bossiest and most competitive so it was easy for her to get her way most of the time. I just didn't really have the energy to fight with her even at the tender age of 6. That day, however, I was determined to be the pink ranger.

"You can't be the pink ranger, Lorena! You don't look like her!" She retorted, "You have to have straight, long hair like mine to be her. Your skin is too dark too!"

I was stunned, tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to find a good reason why I could still be Kimberly Hart, everyones favorite girl ranger but, as standards go, she was right. Valeria was pale, petite and wore all things pink because it made her look cuter. Her thick, raven hair reached just above her bottom and shined in sun. Her long, thick eyelashes made her eyes look like the porcelain dolls you see on display at the toy store.

Meanwhile, I was caramel toned, tall for my age with a thicker frame and my mom put me in a lot of yellow, orange, green and blue colors. Nothing about me screamed cute but more tom-boyish. My hair was always split into sections, greased up with Pink lotion, and twisted into plats with knockers that Im sure were the source of several possible concussions during my grooming process. Then, there were my eyes. They were brown and entirely too large for my face. The worse part was I was the only one in my entire family that looked like me. No one, not even my cousin Bruno who loved to stay out in the sun, got even remotely close to my natural skin tone. It was just me.

My heart sunk to my intestines as I realized my faults could never be changed and I ran inside to cry in my abuelas arms.

Abuela was standing over the olla, stirring the rice with a wooden spoon. She was short and stout which seems to be the standard for Puerto Rican grandmothers and great aunts. She was putting a little Sazon in her guisada mixture when I came blubbering over to her. Her hazel eyes widen as she wiped the back of her hand from tasting the food against the kitchen towel, her way of making sure there was enough seasoning.

"Whats wrong, mija?" Abuela wipes my tears as best she can while I continued to release floodgates, "No llores mamita linda." (Don't cry pretty little girl)

"Abuela..." I manage between hiccups, "No soy linda" (I'm not pretty)

Abuela gives me a stern look, "Well, if you keep crying like that you definitely won't be! Ja, deja tu payasada! I'm trying to watch my novela." (Enough, stop with your nonsense!) She led me to the sofa.

Regardless of her insensitivity, she let me lay my head on her lap while she watched, Esmeralda. My tears began to dry as I followed Jose Armandos desperate attempts to win over Esmeralda Rosales. I noticed that she was petite, had long hair and, although she was blind, her eyes were really light and pretty. The next show was a rerun of Marimar, again the main character is petite with long hair, lighter toned and pretty eyes. As the shows ran on, I came to a serious conclusion that would steer the rest of my life.

I would never be beautiful.