It’s your sixth birthday party. Time to open presents, says mom. You rip the first one open; it is a sparkly book, littered with skinny misses with their pinkies up and their legs crossed, and their rosy mouths turned into a vacant grin. It claims to be about manners, but you can hear its sneering tone.
Shut up and smile princess, says the book. Look pretty and your prince will come.
You hate this book with all your guts. Nonetheless, the words thank you escape your mouth.