From broken shards of glass,
The remnants of scattered memories and shattered hearts,
Lies our biggest critic, replicating our every movement at any given slice of time.
We run from it, we fear it,
But it is relentless in its mission to show us what we wish to unsee –
That pimple,
That out-of-proportion nose,
Those disgustingly asymmetrical eyebrows,
That belly ruining the dress we spent a fortune on,
Those sausages for legs.
So, we stare at it,
Hoping that boring our eyes into it will somehow make us the most desirable person on the planet.
We obsess over it,
Rotating our heads, alternating poses, changing the angle we fixate our eyes upon,
To see if eating nothing but two teaspoons of salad,
Running on an automated running belt for hours on end,
Brings us the perfection we long to embrace.
Except, it doesn’t.
Every glance in its direction is a reprimand for our atrocity,
A mockery of our useless efforts,
A brutal reminder that even if we forgot our flaws for a day, we deserve nothing but animosity.
That pimple,
That out-of-proportion nose,
Those disgustingly asymmetrical eyebrows,
That food belly ruining the dress we spent a fortune on,
Those sausages for legs.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who’s the ugliest of them all?
Me.
Magic Mirror (2021).
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