##Author’s note: this is not about me. It is completely fictional.##
I was hiding. Under the cover of my grandmother’s quilt, I held a flashlight between my teeth. I had a copy of Vogue in front of me. As I flipped through the pages, I longed more and more to be like the Levi’s model with the sexy guy and long legs. I wanted to be like the D&G model with the full lips and big boobs. I wanted to be like them more than anything. I wanted to be skinny like them. I grabbed the small mirror next to my thigh that I wish isn’t mine. I hold the mirror in front of my face. As I shift the old, faded yellow flashlight from my mouth to my hand, I look at myself and am disgusted at what glare back. My nose has that same familiar bump from my mom’s side of the family. I’m stumpy like my grandmother. I have thin, weathered lips and have absolutly no breasts.
” Look at you. You’re disgusting. I hate you. You’re not good enough. I don’t even think there’s anny chance in helping you,” I said visciously to my own image.