Aphrodite.

Aphrodite was a goddess. Foxy lady. Ruler of men. Stories say anyone that saw her became drunk with her good looks.

My name is Aphrodite too, but my smile is crooked like politics. I am not a pretty girl.

My mother is beautiful. Her hair is champagne, and she laughs bubbly. Sometimes, when we’re walking to the corner store, men whistle to tell her just how impressive she is.

She had big plans to wrap me in pretty pink dresses with lace and daffodil yellow ribbons and bows. But my legs are unladylike. They are like chipped Fine China. Useless porcelain. The kind you don’t want your guests to see. Mother says no boy will ever love a girl with scars like that. She makes me wear my brother’s old jeans, always two inches too long, so no one can see my bruises.

I wish I had a simple name like Katy or Susan or Ashley.
I cannot live up to these expectations, and I hate to disappoint.