You wake up one hour earlier than necessary for most people. You walk into the bathroom, shower, and proceed to do your hair and makeup. This takes most people 10 minutes, but since you're popular, you're expected to look perfect, and perfection takes time. You stare at the mirror for a while, hating what you see and wondering why you couldn't be prettier. You layer on enough makeup to effectively camouflage anything you consider to be ugly, then leave the bathroom to get dressed.

You try on at least four outfits, decide you look fat and ugly in every one, and throw them onto your bed. You scream, “I HAVE NO CLOTHES!” despite the vast array of items in your closet. Finally, you settle on the outfit you tried on first. After trying on every pair of shoes you own- usually a very large number- you choose the ones that best match your outfit. Naturally, due to the time constraints of school, most girls don’t have this kind of time to waste every morning, so many perform this ritual the night before.

You look in your full-length mirror and notice that one of your previously perfectly mascara-d eyelashes is out of place. You fly into a rage and return to the bathroom (screaming loudly at whomever might be inside until they relinquish ownership). You then proceed to redo your makeup until roughly 5 minutes before you absolutely HAVE to leave.

You come down the stairs to your mother/father/parental unit yelling at you for making them late. You then walk outside to the car and go to school.

You walk into the hall at school and immediately your friends swarm you. You perform the necessary social ritual: comment on your friend’s clothes, makeup, shoes, purse, accessories… Then you gossip about the boys at school, the boys at the mall, the boys who ogled you as you walked down the street yesterday, etc. You wonder why they're so pretty and thin when you're so homely and fat.

You then notice a guy looking at you from across the hall. You immediately tell your friends, “Ohmygosh, DON’T LOOK NOW, but there’s a guy across the hall that is staring at me!” You then proceed to be TERRIBLY embarrassed as your friends turn around to look at him in a totally obvious way. You continue talking to your friends, glancing at him every 15 seconds or so, and giving him flirty looks. You catch his eye and smile. You then giggle with your friends as you plan your entire dating future with the guy, despite the minor detail of not knowing his name. Right about the time that you reach the part about your seven BEAUTIFUL grandchildren, you notice that they guy is gone. You wonder what you did wrong to drive him away. You whine to your friends about how you manage to scare away every guy who has ever been interested in you. You wind up terribly depressed, even though your friends try to cheer you up by telling you that you’re too good for him, and that he was probably a terrible kisser anyway. This is repeated at least five times per day.

The bell rings. You go to class. You get yelled at for touching up your makeup during class. You think up some bull—er… excuse about how your wearing makeup is a public service, and recite it to the teacher while batting your eyes at him- assuming, that is, that the teacher is male. If the teacher is female, you put away your mirror and pout. Either way, you wait until the teacher’s back is turned, then gossip with your friends about him or her: She’s a crabby old bat, she’s an attractive yet promiscuous lady, he’s an attractive young man, he’s a perverted old child molester...

Lunch time rolls around. You don't buy any lunch (you're on a diet, as usual) so you meet your friends to gossip about the boys at school who have been staring at you all day. You check your makeup again- impeccable as always- and touch up your lipstick. You steal little bits of food from guys’ plates, first as a form of flirtation, then end up eating most of their food because, wow, you’re hungrier than you thought.

The Bell rings- back to class. You get yelled at for being late, because you stopped in the bathroom with your friends to chat and check your makeup. The cute guy who sits next to you asks to borrow a pencil. You smile and hand him one, then proceed to overanalyze his actions. “I wonder why he asked ME. He could’ve asked anyone. He must like me. He probably wants to keep the pencil as a memento of his time spent adoring me…” You look at him. He's not looking at you. You think, “He’s not looking at me. I wonder why he’s not looking at me. He probably realizes that I know he likes me! Aww, he’s shy!” You spend the rest of the school day fantasizing about your wedding.

The school day ends. You meet your friends to gossip about the cute guys you’ve seen since lunch. You whine about your parents, and how their reluctance to spend money is severely impeding the growth of your wardrobe. You complain about how your parents love to torture you by demanding that you be home by 1am on weekends. You (or one of your friends) will perform the aforementioned “that guy is staring at me” ritual every 15 minutes, or whenever one of you tires of the conversation at hand. You and your friends re-plan your weddings, and promise everyone present a place in the wedding party.

You go home, and immediately take possession of the phone. This can get particularly interesting in households with one phone line and multiple teenage females. You proceed to call each and every one of your friends, to tell them about the cute guy you glimpsed in a passing car, re-plan your wedding, plan tomorrow’s outfit- this must be carefully coordinated with your friends in order to avoid the dreaded “she’s wearing my outfit” fiasco - plan your wardrobe for the rest of the week, re-plan your wedding, and describe- in exact detail- your husband, honeymoon, dream house, children- and the way you will dress them, and life.

Fall asleep on the phone. Your parents will later hear the error You know, the one that’s supposed to mean “Hey, you left the phone off the hook, moron!” tone and hang it up for you.