Vanity?

She looks in the mirror, and wonders what is wrong with her. She sees  her acne peeking through the dusty layer of L’Oreal make up set on her cheeks and chin. She sees the asymmetry of her unwaxed eyebrows,  and the overbite her orthodontist warned her about.

She can see where her hand shook while she lined her eyes lightly with black. She wishes her upper lip was fuller,  and that foundation came in her shade of pale. She traces her eyes down the line of stretch marks indenting her hips and thighs.

She bites her tongue. She feels so vain and absorbed in a superficial underworld. She is reminded she is beautiful by those around her, but she can’t believe it.

She can’t understand how they can over look her red dotted face and blonde fly aways. How can they swear by it that she exceeds average beauty when she sees far more flawless faces than her own on the tv, covers of magazines, and on undoubtedly real humans every time she leaves the house?

They condemn her every time she questions the validity of their assertions, that she is of the gorgeous elite. So she often keeps her feelings to her self, convinced she must act aggressively to become happy with herself.

And her unhappiness with her reflection barely scratches the surface.

How can she maneuver through the chaos in her mind? She tells herself what she does is irrational,  insane, but fails to act swiftly enough to avoid falling into a dangerous mind set.

The ugliness she perceives within seemes to ooze from her pores.  And she struggles to wake up each day and love life enough not to divorce it. To love herself enough to be forgiven.

What a pretty face, why are you so sad? Well, at least you are beautiful.  Women would kill to look like you.

So kill me damn it! Inside her mind echos this taunt.  Kill me and wear my skin. Please spare me. You can taste ketosis breath and wobble on penil shoes and try to sit in dolls dresses.

She bites through her tongue on bad days. No one wants to hear her complain. After all, the blood in her mouth is from the strength of her own teeth and the will of her jaw.

If she wants to fit in she can eat whatever she’d like.  What a blessing, a sweet little blessing.

Beauty.

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