Beautiful | Teen Ink

Beautiful

June 20, 2013
By mockingbird13 BRONZE, Cleveland, Ohio
mockingbird13 BRONZE, Cleveland, Ohio
3 articles 1 photo 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.
~Dr. Suess


It was a beautiful Spring morning. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and I already knew the day would be perfect. I hopped out of bed and padded over to my dresser.

“Ew! What happened to you?”

I stopped suddenly. I could have sworn I heard a voice, but I was alone in my room.

“Who’s there?” I asked

“Over here, Ugly!” it called.

The voice was coming from behind me, so I turned around. I was staring straight at my reflection.

“Hello, Fatty,” my reflection said, sneering, and I realized the voice sounded just like me.

“Who are you? And why are you being so mean? I’m not ugly! Or fat!” I cried.

“I’m you, of course!” my reflection proclaimed. “And since I’m you, I know better than anyone else what you really look like.”

My “perfect” day was off to an awful start.

“No, I’m not ugly. I have pretty eyes, a bright smile, and long curly hair! And I’m not fat... Am I?” I was beginning to doubt this, the more I listened to my reflection speak.

“You eyes are too close together. It makes you look cross eyed. Your smile makes your cheeks look chubby, and your curls are a frizzy mess. Those pants make your thighs look like tree trunks, and that shirt just draws attention to how flabby your stomach is,” stated my reflection. “I’m you, remember? Shouldn’t you listen to yourself? Isn’t that important? It doesn’t matter what other people think of you as long as you listen to yourself.”

I turned sideways and stared at my profile in the mirror. I was beginning to see what this girl inside me saw. My stomach wasn’t perfectly flat, my curls were just a frizzy mane, and my eyes really were too close together.

“You see? I’m right. You should always listen to yourself,” my reflection declared.

“No!” I yelled; I was angry now. “You’re not really me! You’re just an embodiment of all my insecurities, and unlike you, my insecurities don’t make me!” I yelled. “I won’t listen to you! I won’t! I’m beautiful, and you can’t convince me otherwise. You’re not me.”

I stalked down the stairs and grabbed my coat. As I was walking out the door, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, and we smiled.



Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.