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When I was a little girl, I had the milky-white, nearly translucent, perfect skin of a redhead. It was the kind of skin that, between its near-invisible pores and soft dusting of freckles across the nose, elicited coos of “She looks like a little angel!” from strangers in the grocery store.
I saw a preview of “My Generation” on Youtube. It said the show is about people who graduated in 2000 and what they’re doing ten years later. I was like, “Oh my god, this is about me!” I danced around my living room excited to find out television has finally decided to take my generation seriously.