Did I mention I have freckles?
They're awful.
I've got them all over my face, covering my cheeks like a disease.
I hate them.
I've tried everything to get rid of them, lemon juice, makeup, scrubbing, yet nothing will get rid of them.
I'm staring at my freckles one day and decide to ask an expert of high intelligence what to do about them.
I run down to the study where Jones is writing an essay.
"Jones, you're highly educated, right?"
He looks at me oddly.
"Yes." He answers.
"So, could you tell me how to get rid of my freckles?" I ask sweetly, sitting across from him.
"I'm an archaeologist, not a dermatologist." He says pointedly, giving me a small smile.
"And?" I ask expectantly.
"Why do you want to even get rid of your freckles?" He inquires, pushing his glasses farther up his nose.
"They're atrocious." I sum up, making a nasty face.
He leans forward, running his eyes over my face.
"Nah," He says, "they're not bad. They make your eyes brighter, more attractive."
I can't help but blush furiously at the compliment.
"Thanks for helping." I mutter before dashing out of the room.
As I walk back to my room. I figure that freckles aren't all that bad after all...