I wish I didn't know the recipe for getting teased in middle school, but unfortunately, I got made fun of a lot. I had huge breasts by the time I was 11, a complexion dotted in acne, and, most embarrassingly, the kind of thick body hair that often comes with being Italian-American. Combine all that, and you get a girl who was heckled and teased to the point that her dad had to put Post-it notes in her lunchbox that said, "You’re a leader, not a follower." Yeah, it was rough.

My hairy limbs made me feel freakish and ugly, and it certainly didn't help that one girl nicknamed me “Godzilla.” After months of torment, I raced off the bus one day and made a beeline for my bathroom. I pulled out a razor — a tool I had never used before (okay, minus the time I shaved my eyebrows the night before third-grade picture day) — and went to town on my arms. I watched in awe as the hair easily came off and wondered why I hadn't done this sooner. When I was finished, I looked at my smooth, naked arms and thought, I can't wait for everyone to see this tomorrow.