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Insecurity

Looking in the clear reflection, I have an image in my mind. A slim nose, with thin eyebrows, as if I was a reflection of Bella Hadid or Taylor Swift. Remove all the uncomfortably large pores, dark under eye bags, and bright red acne scars that just won’t leave me alone. Slim down the chubby stomach and enlarging the breasts and the butt, just so I have a chance at opportunities I wouldn’t have if I looked like myself. My unchanged, disgusting self. Crack. The clear reflection shatters. Unable to look, can’t bear to see my reflection. My porous nose and hairy eyebrows and pus-filled pimples. It’s truly and utterly my disgusting self. And I forever loathe the women I see, with their waists as slim as a sheet of paper, and their stomachs as flat as a floor, and their teeth as white as a cloud, and skin as clean as filtered tap water. The broken glass remains shattered, just as I am-- unfixable, trapped in the shackles of my unchangeable, disgusting self.

Insecurity

Looking in the clear reflection, I have an image in my mind. A slim nose, with thin eyebrows, as if I was a reflection of Bella Hadid or...

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