Everyone in my family was born with beautiful, brown skin.
Everyone except me.
All my life my ghostly white skin has forced me into the family spotlight, making me the favorite topic of holiday jokes.
If you think I'm exaggerating my extreme paleness, I invite you to take a look at my senior picture.
Now if this picture had been taken in the dead of winter, then maybe my translucent skin wouldn't be so bad.
But no. This picture was taken in August. After a long, hot Arizona summer in the sun.
Foolishly, I prayed my skin would change with age.
After all, maybe God had had enough laughs at my expense and was going to one day grant me gloriously brown skin too.
Well, I'm now 23. And sadly, I am done hoping.
As unbelievable as it may seem, my skin has gotten even whiter as the years have passed.
And all I have to say is:
Not funny, God. Not funny at all.