The mirror and I

have always had

a distorted

blurred

relationship.

Seven.
In adoration of the sparkly princess dresses

and fairy wings
You look so pretty
She will be gorgeous when she’s older
I see the reflection
and think-
This must be what matters most.

Twelve.
Pulling on a shirt,
only hearing
It isn’t very slimming
It will look right when I am a smaller size Visions of family members worshipping the scale
flood in
I place the shirt back on the rack.

Thirteen.
In fear of going to school

of feeling like a whale

in a sea of tiny fish

I’ll change in one of the stalls for PE

at least there I can hide

Considering adopting their methods

of maintaining such small frames.

Fifteen.
Feeling more anxiety for the pool party

that afternoon
than my final exams
later that year
Is it worth going?
I can’t go there looking like this

What if I’m the largest there?

Feigning sickness is easier
than joining my friends.

Eighteen.
No longer in a world of carbon copies.

Able to attend a college party

baring a midriff
Hoping I can join for the next beach trip

Even though that means buying swimwear.

The only reprimands
from peers who have the same thoughts

who will not allow those voices to remain.

The mirror and I
have always had
a distorted
blurred
relationship
but now
rather than remaining idle

and letting the image warp further

I will clear the glass.