I open my eyes again when she places me at a table. They sting, a good sting, means the bad stuff inside is coming out. I look at the tabletop.Its smooth. I can see my face in it....agh! DISGUSTING. I choose to look up instead. The woman they call my therapist is looking back at me with warm eyes, like a horses gaze. (how did she sneak over here???) She slides a piece of white paper and a box of Crayola pencils my way. "This is how I start with everyone.Just draw a self portrait."
I start on my face. Stringy ugly dishwater blond hair like old frayed yarn. Too-round, too-fat face.Weird narrow gray eyes. Invisible-blond eyebrows. Big nose. Big mouth. Now my body. Football-player shoulders. Too-big hands. Squishy soft hips. Awkward, shortish legs.Red.Yellow. Gray.
I stare at it a moment, methodically take out a black pencil, and scratch a heavy X through my face. My head falls to the cool. shiny tabletop and tears sting my cheeks again.
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