Here are some metaphors from high school essays that will make you wince.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli and he was roomtemperature Canadian beer.

She had a deep throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Even in his last years, Grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her like a dog at a fire hydrant.

She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.