The Mirror

I hate you.
You show me nothing but imperfections.
Just a constant reminder of just how ugly I am
Will you ever cease?
Do you have to show my fat rolls?
My thighs that will always touch?
How about my stomach?
Or the breasts that sag so low?
My arms that flap in the wind?
Let’s not forget the imperfect skin:
Stretch marks,
That line from years of wearing pants too tight,
Keratosis Pilaris, and
Acne
Mirror, will you ever be my friend?
Or will you continue to make me fail to see my own physical beauty?
Mirror, I still hate you.

30 May 2006