I am not who a middle-aged man may think: a “beautiful young girl.” I am not just a girl shoving sliced green apples into a roaring juicer for your eight bucks. I am not just a girl who you decide to side eye as you sway with your hands in your pockets until something in your rotting brain clicks and you blurt out, “You’re a very beautiful young girl, honey,” and wink, nodding guiltily toward your wife and grandchildren. No. I’m a young woman who woke up at 6 a.m. on a Sunday morning to take care of over 100 orders including your disgusting juice with too much ginger. I’m sweating, coffee grounds under my fingernails and smeared onto my Levi’s. I don’t feel like a “beautiful young girl.” Instead, the unwanted male gaze leaves me with a fragile view towards my own femininity and a broken me when I look in the mirror. To read more, click the link in bio. #storybycarolinegould #socialmediabycarolinegould