All girls have fears. Some fear spiders. Some fear teachers. Most fear pimples, split-ends and what-not-to wear outfits. But us girls, we're different. We fear things like scales. And tape measures. And food. But our biggest fear is mirrors. Mirrors hurt us. When we stand in front of them, they talk at us. They tell us how fat, ugly, and disgusting we are. Mirrors make us cry. They make us eat so little or so much that we eventually can't eat normally. I have a mirror in my room. It sits on my wall, staring at me and criticizing me all day. Sometimes I stand in front of my mirror. I see me, the fat me, staring back. Then the mirror starts talking. You're disgusting, Lily, look at all that fat. Have you seen your thunder thighs? You need to lose some weight. I cry, as I listen to the mirror, because I know I will never be thin enough to be good enough. I'll never be able to make my mom proud. I'll never be good enough to have a boyfriend. And I'll never be good enough to have a real friend. The tears are falling down my face now, soaking my shirt. Before I turn away, I look at myself in the mirror again. I look it right in the eye, and think. Someday, I will make my mom proud. Someday, I will have a boyfriend. Someday, I will have a true friend who loves me. Someday, I will eat again. But then the mirror starts talking again, telling me how disgusting and gross and overweight I am. Maybe I won't ever make my mom proud. Maybe I'll never be able to eat again. Because, of course, it would have to be in a world without mirrors.
August 8, 2010