Britney Spears almost killed me. Saturday started with my tenth hip-hop number in front of an audience of eclectic stuffed animals, bearing witness to my star potential. Wearing mom’s stilettos made me feel hot. The noose of hives, not so much. My grin, chock-thick with braces, slid off when swollen eyelids blurred my vision. With an enlarged tongue pulsing to Spears’ “Toxic,” I stumbled to the phone to call the police. The hospital bed felt cool. A bald doctor with furrowed brows diagnosed a high schooler with a severe allergy to exercise. I did not feel like a pop star.
Charlotte Kim is a writer based in Los Angeles. She graduated from the University of Southern California with a BA in Communication. Find Charlotte on Instagram @charlotteykim.