Lipstick and strategically located socks for boobs: for a fifth grader! That's... child abuse!
My mom had this huge cardboard box, attached some sticks and leaves to it, and declared it a tree. I was weeping, unable to get into it. Tim Curry, two classes older than me, noticed and helped me into it. He became the world's nicest boy in my mind. I loved him. He moved to another town. At age 11, crossing the road to get the mail, he was hit by a car and killed. My world view was shaken. Guardian angels, the whole package, just shattered. Then my sister went missing, and our prayers for her safe return were too late. Or not heard because no such God exists. I've read many, many books on claiming the promises of God and trusting that all is well and joy will prevail but my brain is not wired for that kind of belief.

Revelation 21:4
... and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.”

Tim Curry, age 11, may you live on in heaven....