• I lean against my counter and stare,
    I feel my eyes pick apart every inch of imperfections,
    I am to short, my hair is too curly, and I am to fat.
    The mirror seems to bend me, like a circus mirror and turn me into something ugly.
    Sweat tears fall down my face as I pick myself apart again.
    My sister flashes in my head, to perfect.
    She was always everything I was not, tall beautiful and thin.
    Even her inner beauty surpasses mine, outgoing, funny, and loveable.
    While I am shy, cold, and I put walls up to keep other out.
    So I stop eating, lose weight, cut my hair, and where high heals.
    But when I see that mirror, the illusion grabs me again pulls me in.
    I grow bigger and my hair frizzes, and I grow shorter.
    But when my sister walks by the mirror, she looks so perfect, not fazed by the circus mirror.
    She is still thin, still tall, and straight long blonde hair.
    Why can’t I just stand in the mirror and smile at myself.
    So once again, I don’t let anything digest, and I continue to pretend to be perfect….plastic; almost like my sister.
    Before I know it I loose all my weight, my hair grows just like Barbie hair, and I grow a few inches.
    But once again, I pass the mirror, and freeze; I’m just the way I want myself, I say, plastic….and so perfect.
    Why then, is the mirror, showing such a face full of sorrow, and full of pain, I look like my sister now….why am I not happy….