This is a true story that happened to me a few weeks ago. If you don’t know, I was born in Venezuela: a country that praises sensuality and ornament. With a long tradition of international beauty pageant queens, it is in our culture, in our identity, to look good. Oddly enough, that custom has only boosted my desire for simplicity. When I was 18, I weighted 54 kilograms, I used to pull my hair back in a ponytail, everyday. I was slim, had large hips, long neck and a small waist. I didn’t wear make-up or followed trends. My favourite colors to wear were black, blue, and gray. I wasn’t fashionable. I was, you could say, simple. But I felt special, not all eyes were worthy of my beauty (teenage self-esteem). Fourteen years have passed and I am a woman now. Do I even have to say that I don’t look the same? Should I even say it? To you? My dear friend reader who must sense me just a bit by now? Well, I have changed. I am 20 kilograms heavier now. My hips look lar