My Boring, Social Outcast Life

The beginning

"Brit! Get down here and come see your great Aunt Tara!" is the first thing I hear when I wake up. Its Saturday. And its eleven o'clock. I shouldn't even be up. Its too early for this $π¡+.
"Mom! Let me sleep! I am a growing teenager!" I mean it is true. I am thirteen year young now. Although I don't get as much sleep as I need. Who thought getting up at five thirty in the morning for school was a good idea? Well I have some news for them. It ain't.
"I don't care how old you are Brit. Get down here. Now!" She even uses her stern voice. This is serious. Who is Aunt Tara anyways? I run down the two flights of stairs I must climb in order to get to my room. The ugly beige carpet gives me brush burns of the bottoms of my feet. The textured, baby vomit colored walls scratch my flabby arms. Jesus, I really need to start working out. Naw, I'm too out of shape.
" Hello Dearie. Nice to see you again. Get over here and let me pinch those chubby cheeks of yours!" said the crusty old woman sitting in our outdated living room. The only problem with the old woman was, I has no idea who she was.