Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy

My sister sent me a book today and I read a paragraph that sums me up in such a way that I think the author has secretly been watching me for most of my adult life.

"There was nothing I hated worse than clumps of whispering girls who got quiet when I passed. I started picking scabs off my body and, when I didn't have any, gnawing the flesh around my fingernails till I was a bleeding wreck. I worried so much about how I looked and whether I was doing things right, I felt half the time I was impersonating a girl instead of really being one."

The only thing missing is the scarred shoulders from picking bumps.