It was a small party, so small that even calling it a party was a misnomer. A few of my friends were waiting downstairs, ready to talk about our futures and our plans to keep in touch. As I got out of the shower and got dressed, I wondered what that future would hold. For myself, there wasn't much doubt. I was going to one of the most prestigious colleges in the country on a full academic scholarship. Summa cum laude was in my future, as was a long career in a scholarly field.

I got dressed in my typical look: baggy cargo pants, a loose sweatshirt and my thick rimmed glasses. To say that my style was ratty, nerdy or tomboyish would be another misnomer: I had no style at all. All I cared about was being comfortable and being looked at with nothing less than respect. So I covered up a bit. It's not like my goodwill clothes were too expensive for me to layer them.

I stepped into my old sneakers and headed downstairs, only to find her blocking the way.

My stepmother was my antithesis, and ever since she married my dad, my nemesis. She was a trophy, a gold digger, a bimbo, a Real Housewives wannabe who cared more about her hair than the atrophied brain underneath it. I tried not to be cruel to her at first but she hadn't returned the favor. I called her stupid because she'd apparently never had a real job or college education, but she had a rather sharp and hurtful wit and a penchant for making fun of her tomboyish stepdaughter.

"Excuse me" I said, putting on a fake, simmering smile as she blocked the way, looking like she was going to a club even though she was just having a night in.

"Oh of course, your 'party', with your friends" she said, making air quotes with her fake nails. Clearly she and I had different ideas of how to have fun.

"Yeah, my party" I said bluntly. I didn't want any arguments about if I was ever going to date or about how my nose was always buried in a book or about any of those things. I just wanted this interaction to be over.

"Well then, who am I to stop you. Your future's coming fast and you don't want to miss it. So I hope you enjoy the party. Apricot."

All the sudden, I seemed to grow in height. The whole hallway changed and the banner that said "Class of 2019" became "Class of 2023". I tried to step back but nearly broke my ankle, looking down to see what was on my feet. But my feet were the least of my problems.

Below was the most egregiously low cut dress I'd ever seen, cleavage presented on a silver platter by fabric which tightly hugged every curve of my body. My hands were perfectly manicured with matching fake nails. My feet were teetering in 6 inch heels. I could feel makeup on my face, see blonde hair rolling down where I'd once been brunette, and hear the giggle of my stepmother as she stood before me.

"I'm so proud you finally graduated from beauty school! Now are you ready for your party?" she asked as the sounds of wild revelry echoed from downstairs.

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If you're interested, please be literate and message me with the password 'diploma.' I can't wait to get your orange envelopes.