I found this letter that I wrote when I was like 15? to Seventeen Magazine, appealing to them for a Makeover. It’s really funny and also very sad. I kind of wanted to simultaneously frame it and light it on fire, or never look at it again, so I of course decided to post it here and risk public humiliation. I like to think that over the past 12 years I’ve managed to give myself my own makeover, and that I didn’t need 17 after all. Or maybe, in a way, I’m still exactly the same?