A Self Portrait With Words

This is just a little diary of my life, by day. Not sure what I'm going to use this for.

She is ashamed of her face in that mirror, under those lights.

She knows, on some level, that she's pretty. Mostly it's her eyes, that frosty blue-grey, although her lashes are too short. She likes their almond shape, though, and the ski-jump nose right beneath it. These features are the only things even remotely asian about her, despite the rest of her family; they're all petite and dark; naturally thin, with long hair and dark eyes.

In the mirror, her clammy skin is almost ghostly pale, and the pimples clustered around her hairline are redder; the scars, too, are easier to see, scars from where she's scratched at them with bitten-down nails, until there was blood. Tiny dark hairs across the bridge of her nose remind her that she hasn't plucked, although she has, hating the unibrow. And the moles growing, cultivating themselves on her cheeks--misshappen, dark, from "prolonged sun exposure"--

She supposes, pinching her dumpy waist, and the stomach protruding rudely over the edge of her jeans, that she's pretty anyway. Maybe the light just does strange things to her body. This is her "thin" shirt, after all, the one she wears when she needs to look especially slender. Sometimes she feels thin, and sometimes she doesn't. It depends on the day, and what she's eaten.

But of course, she is pretty, at least to some extent. Her Mama always says so, and so does Becca, her best friend, and one of the thinnest girls in their grade. And she's had boyfriends, well, two of them, and both have told her at least once that she was nice-looking.  Jake even once called her beautiful. Haha. And then, of course, he left her for Spring. Petite, blonde, skinny Spring.

Reading over what she's just written, she doesn't make herself sound pretty at all. Just a mess of blotches and loose fat. Maybe if she stops eating, though she's never been good at that, she'll look thinner--even in time to see Trevor.

She hopes.

Then, sighing, she walks to the kitchen for a dish of ice cream.

The End

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