That Girl in the Mirror

For the past ten minutes I've been staring at that reflection in the mirror. I’m staring at her flaky skin, and I suddenly miss how she had smooth, shiny skin. I’m still wondering when that entire glow left her. I stare closer now. I can see dead skin peeling off from her leg as she brushes her hand past. The flakes settle in the air, that ugly part of hers is peeling off. I shift my stare to her hands now, and I raise my eyebrows in disbelief! More flakes! Ugh, she’s ugly! I pan my stare upwards – a brand new pink zit rests on her right cheek, much to my disgust. For a couple of minutes I’m just pinned down by dirty truth that the girl I’m staring at is blemished beyond normal expression. I cannot take my eyes off her receding hairline, her tan, her blotches or anything that is a part of her. 

  As I move closer to the reflection, I’m filled with ten-fold disgust towards that figure in the mirror.

 Who is she? Why do I hate her so much? Why do I look down on her with much loathing?

I stepped back from the mirror. Now I couldn't see that zit on her face. I stepped back again and I couldn't notice the receding hairline or the blotches or the dark lips that bothered me a while back. I stepped further back. I saw flawless hands and legs. I stepped back till I saw her once more, fully from afar. I saw the beauty in her – inside out. I saw that same girl from before, sans the self afflicted misery and negativity. I saw that same girl smile back at me, as I stepped back and reflected myself, fully.