A Defective Mirror

The mirror is not my friend today, just like it wasn't last week. The reflection I see when my eyes peer in makes me cringe with each sob, showing a person I'm not sure I remember, or one that I don't really want to. "Not today!" I plead with what I see. "I promised I would try harder!" Yet that girl stares back, disfigured and worn. Imperfection reflected in the smudged glass I can't look away from each morning. Her eyes are too down-turned, dripping pain down her face. Her nose - too large - a flaw she got from her grandpa. Her shoulders - too broad - hold her head too low, and her thick arms she got from her mom. Too small lips, a pointy chin, and a wide forehead besides. Two breasts, scrutinized, on her chest: sag from nursing two babes. A dimpled stomach, with a wide placed scar, usually camouflaged with lumpy clothing. A pinch of fat here, dinner skipped will make her feel a bit better. Boxes of rouge to define what she can. Necessary changes, needed to feel right - Hours spent trying to fix what I can't. Beauty hidden behind the reflection, someone I won't ever meet. "I tried." I whisper to the empty space. "I'll never see what they see." She turns her back to me, the reflection no longer staring back. Try again tomorrow, I'm reminded. Maybe then I can leave my home.