If you could change one physical thing about yourself, what would it be? Surely, you’ve been asked that question in your life time, as have I. Do I have a choice of more than one thing? This might take a while. The trouble is, I don’t think I’ve ever been at a point in my life, when I have felt 100 or at least 90 percent good about my physical appearance. I know, I know. This applies to most people, but sometimes I wonder if I will ever get to a point in my life when I look in the mirror before going out or staying in and say, you know what? I like this. I like me. It’s not perfect, but it’s where I want everything to be.

I’m not holding my breath.

So when I think to myself, if I could change anything about my physical appearance, I have an entire list ready, but for this post’s sake, I won’t bore you with my self-conscious whining for too long.

• skin – I am now 24-years-old. That’s 10 years older than 14, meaning my skin SHOULD have cleared up by now and when I wake up in the morning, I should be able to look at myself calmly and go pour myself tea, not let out a ghastly scream that confirms the worst: a big juicy pimple, making himself comfortable on the side of my face. I have unnecessary acne. It’s the kind that doesn’t even make sense at all. It’s just there one day for no explained reason and it’s telling me, “I am going to ruin your life – this might take up to a week or more, please, get comfortable and make sure you turn your self-confidence down a notch.” When I brought up the issue with my then-doctor, who, by the way, had a brain made of the cotton balls she kept in a jar in the examination room, she brushed it off as completely normal, comparing herself to me. “Look,” she said, pointing to her chin, “I’m in my 40s and I have acne too. It’s fine! Let me just prescribe you some medication.” I wanted to yell and say, but you don’t understand, NO ONE and I mean NO ONE my age that I know has arbitrary acne like I do. You just really don’t get it! But I resisted this urge and instead took her prescription down to the pharmacy, only to find out that I paid $26 for a tube of benzoyl peroxide, when I could have just bought it from the market myself for about $5. Useless, utterly useless. They let anyone pass through medical school these days, don’t they?

• weight – Oh, how cliche of me, I know. Look, it’s not that I’m particularly big. I’m not. But when you’re as short as I am, a few added pounds look like 10. Trust. And it’s not like my weight is distributed evenly over my body, oh noooo. It decides to reside in my hips and thighs and make my life a living hell in the process. I’ve tried to get rid of it before, but nothing has worked for me. Mostly because I lack the motivation and energy to go through with it. If I want to lose weight, I’ll probably have to abandon all other areas of my life and go on a show like the Biggest Loser or something like it, because you know what? Food is good. I’ll get to it though, one day.

• nose – The only thing I need to put here is that I’m Armenian, and perhaps like other cultures, we are notorious for and have notorious noses. It’s not as bad as it could be, but I’d just like it to be nipped in the bud a bit. Just a little. Please? Just a tiny bit from the bottom. Pretty please? I guess it makes me unique. Whatever.

• height – Hello, my name is Liana and I am short. Yes that’s right, my dreams of being a contestant on Tyra “Smile With Your Eyes” Banks’ “America’s Next Top Super Model” were shattered when I was conceived.  To be honest, I don’t mind being short all that much. I can fit into small spaces easily. Once I crawled under a steel fence at school to retrieve backpacks that my friends and I had left inside when we had wandered outside to get some food. They coined me “Mighty Mouse.” I hate that my shortness shows SO MUCH when I’m standing next to tall people. I’m only asking for a couple of inches, I’m not greedy. But you better believe, that if I was tall enough, I would definitely try my hand out at modeling. Fierce.

What parts would you like to reattach?