Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall

The mirror stares at me, showing me what I thought wouldn't be true. The lines on my body, the frizziness of my hair, the fat on my legs. It's all there. I try and try to get rid of all the problems and to be able to move on from this, but somehow I can't. 

I suck in my stomach, to see if that will help any. It doesn't. I just look like I'm trying too hard. People will laugh at me for this. They will laugh that I can't be just like the rest of them, with no hips, and no stomach. I can't be perfect, with their luscious hair and perfect white smile. They won't understand. The won't understand that I try not to eat as much, and exercise more. All they see is the fat, sitting there in front of them. 

I pull my frizzy hair into a bun, but it makes no use. The small curls still come off, sticking out for everyone to see. I look like a homeless person. Not to be mean to homeless people, but it wasn't pretty. I tried slicking my hair back into the perfect bun it's supposed to be. All the curls do is bounce right back. 

I pull the straps of my black leotard over my shoulders, the pink tights itchy after only being on for a few minutes. I stare at myself in the mirror. The others definitely will laugh. I don't look like a ballerina. I look like a freak. 

From the other room, I can hear my little sister calling to play with me. "In a second!" I call back to her. I try to tighten my waistline further, but it doesn't go. I try to slick back my hair, thinking about what others will think about me there. The curls still fall away from my head. 

I plaster on a fake smile and race out, to play with my little sister. She doesn't need to know what I think about. About the girls who control my every thought, just with their taunting and their perfect selves. I pretend they don't matter and keep on playing. They may take away all of my self-esteem, but they can't take away my little sister.