Here's the start of Hannah's college entrance essay (class of 2021).
She had help from the College Essay Doc.

Growing up in my parents' nail salon meant I had all of the colors I could ever want and every other week I chose another. I grew to like the fumes of the nail polish and acrylic powders through my time spent scrubbing spa chairs, folding towels, and sorting the different polishes. Eventually, I memorized a long list of OPI colors along with their names and codes. My favorite was "Cozu Melted in the Sun," M27, which I've even recognized on my friend's nails before. When I was not working, I sat in the back room drawing, wasting away the reams of paper meant for printing out receipts or product orders. My parents dedicated their lives to beauty; all of their hours were spent caring about the new polish colors for the season, their clients' experience, and the trendy technology in the industry. It may seem trivial and superficial to some, but this was their livelihood: helping people feel beautiful. 

 

My hands, however, didn't match those of the women in our salon. From an early age, I developed eczema, which started out as small red patches but eventually engulfed my right hand with cracking, itchy, red skin. After finishing my homework, I went to bed only to stay up for hours scratching my hands until they were raw and swollen. I tried various combinations of salves and ointments. I kept my hands dry, I kept them in gloves, nothing worked. I was ashamed....