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All the love you ever wanted
Dear Thirteen-Year-Old Angela: Please don’t worry about your looks so much. You will learn how little they matter, and how ultimately they fade anyway, no matter how generously they bloom. Don’t cringe over your awkward, gangly body – all jutting limbs and angles like a newborn foal. And don’t frown at your long face that seems to sprout a new red dot each evening, like a cruel gift. These indignities are short-lived, and by the next time the trees lose their leaves you will
