By now the sun has set. I can feel that the sky has changed to that intimate color that everyone seems to awe over once seen from their car window or their shaded balcony. Orange streaks randomly slapping the sky and purple ribbons mating with the dimmed blue color.
I love to look at that sight, but I’m in here, sweating. Ugly sweat, not pretty rainbow colors caressing the sky but colorless odor abiding sweat trickling down my face. Forced to look at it in the mirror for my reflection is merely everywhere I turn. As if I’m not already obsessed with the way I look.
I look down at my black silver, and pink polka-dotted ballet shoes to remind my sweat I’m not completely ugly and colorless. I need color in my life or I feel lonely. It’s sort of like an OCD for me. I can’t just wear a t-shirt and some blue jeans I have to stand out. But why is that? Why would I want to stand out when I’m always worried about the way people look at me?
But I manage in the ballet studio to stay somewhat calm. I dance in pretty bright pink to feel loose and beautiful. I leave my hair down so my lovely long brown hair can embrace my face. I prance and leap around in a leotard so when I happen to look in the mirror when I don’t want to, I can stare at my legs, the legs that guys tell me I should win a Nobel prize for.
And once I've worn myself out I put my hands on my hips and just stare at myself some more in the big mirror. I tilt my head back and forth, looking for my perfect head shot. I run my fingers through my hair and tease it a bit like every girl with long soft hair does.
As he penetrates the doorway my heart drops. I dread every step he took towards me. I stare at him through the mirror. No longer am I looking at hideous me but everything perfect he holds. He’s the reason for my insecurity but I love him so much. I come in here to be alone and dance because being alone, and away from everyone else and everything else makes me feel more of a strong and better individual.
“Hey,” he starts.
“How did you know I was here? And besides I thought you were busy tonight.”
I don’t look up at the mirror anymore because if I do it will capture the two of us and then I would really see how “out of my league” I am.
He wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck sending tiny electric waves around my face and down my spine. “Your friend Jenna told me you would. And I had a change of plans,” I know he’s looking at us through the mirror, watching our bodies’ rock together. “You look really good.”
I escape his grasp and begin my routine again. I have to keep on thinking I’m still that same beautiful girl a couple of minutes ago, just do the dance routine again and remember the pretty shoes you’re wearing. Wipe the sweat and continue. “Gunna put on a show for me?” Not for you, for me.
“Sure.”
When I finish I don’t feel right to open my eyes. Maybe I should do it over again. I begin the same routine again. “Wow, long dance,” he says. Or maybe I have done it already more than once, probably more than three times.
I stop… in front of the damn mirror. I look at my fat body, my messed up hair, the gross sweat sliding down the corners of my face. Tears stream down my cheeks and I collapse on to the ground covering my face with my hands. “Emma. Are you okay?” He touches my body.
“Why are you here?” I scream, gasping in between breaths.
“You don’t want to be?” Yes I feel bad, but look what he’s doing to me.
“I just want to be alone. When I’m in here I don’t want anyone else in here.”
“Okay. But what did I do?”
I pause letting my sobbing calm itself down. “I’m a freak!”
“How? How are you a freak?”
“I feel horrible. I have fat legs,” I pinch my thighs “I’m-I’m ugly!”
“Emma. Do you seriously think you’re ugly?”
“And I don’t know why you’re with me. Every time I’m with you, you make me feel like I don’t deserve you. Everywhere we go, every step we take together I feel like you’re closer in dumping me.”
His face was blank and I roll my watery eyes. “Just go. End it now so I don’t look stupid later.”
“Emma, I love you. You have beautiful legs,” he places his hand on my thigh “a beautiful face, a beautiful everything. I’m no where near ending this relationship because I like you, a lot. And whatever it is you’re going through, we’ll get through it.”
“It’s embarrassing. I can’t get over it. I've tried! It’s, so hard.”
“Look at me,” my eyes search his face. “I’ll help you. I love you and I’ll always be right there for you. You deserve me and I deserve you. Neither of us are better than each other, we’re just right. That’s why this will work.”
I slowly caress his face with my hand. “Landon, I love you so much,” and he nods. And smiles. “Why can’t I just, love you?”
“You’re beautiful.” He touches my hair “You’re hair… you’re lips,” and he kisses me.
I want to think I have been exaggerating too much about how I look and how I’m not good enough for people, but what good does it make in admitting it? I know Landon was a huge problem with my insecurity; I never told him how I felt, how awful I felt. But I honestly do feel better. Because at first I didn’t want anyone in the ballet studio when I was in it and now I can passionately kiss my boy friend and not obsess with the way I look.
I look back in the mirror, with Landon cradling me. I put my hair up in a bun and take off my favorite shoes. “You’re still beautiful,” he says and kisses me again.
I love to look at that sight, but I’m in here, sweating. Ugly sweat, not pretty rainbow colors caressing the sky but colorless odor abiding sweat trickling down my face. Forced to look at it in the mirror for my reflection is merely everywhere I turn. As if I’m not already obsessed with the way I look.
I look down at my black silver, and pink polka-dotted ballet shoes to remind my sweat I’m not completely ugly and colorless. I need color in my life or I feel lonely. It’s sort of like an OCD for me. I can’t just wear a t-shirt and some blue jeans I have to stand out. But why is that? Why would I want to stand out when I’m always worried about the way people look at me?
But I manage in the ballet studio to stay somewhat calm. I dance in pretty bright pink to feel loose and beautiful. I leave my hair down so my lovely long brown hair can embrace my face. I prance and leap around in a leotard so when I happen to look in the mirror when I don’t want to, I can stare at my legs, the legs that guys tell me I should win a Nobel prize for.
And once I've worn myself out I put my hands on my hips and just stare at myself some more in the big mirror. I tilt my head back and forth, looking for my perfect head shot. I run my fingers through my hair and tease it a bit like every girl with long soft hair does.
As he penetrates the doorway my heart drops. I dread every step he took towards me. I stare at him through the mirror. No longer am I looking at hideous me but everything perfect he holds. He’s the reason for my insecurity but I love him so much. I come in here to be alone and dance because being alone, and away from everyone else and everything else makes me feel more of a strong and better individual.
“Hey,” he starts.
“How did you know I was here? And besides I thought you were busy tonight.”
I don’t look up at the mirror anymore because if I do it will capture the two of us and then I would really see how “out of my league” I am.
He wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck sending tiny electric waves around my face and down my spine. “Your friend Jenna told me you would. And I had a change of plans,” I know he’s looking at us through the mirror, watching our bodies’ rock together. “You look really good.”
I escape his grasp and begin my routine again. I have to keep on thinking I’m still that same beautiful girl a couple of minutes ago, just do the dance routine again and remember the pretty shoes you’re wearing. Wipe the sweat and continue. “Gunna put on a show for me?” Not for you, for me.
“Sure.”
When I finish I don’t feel right to open my eyes. Maybe I should do it over again. I begin the same routine again. “Wow, long dance,” he says. Or maybe I have done it already more than once, probably more than three times.
I stop… in front of the damn mirror. I look at my fat body, my messed up hair, the gross sweat sliding down the corners of my face. Tears stream down my cheeks and I collapse on to the ground covering my face with my hands. “Emma. Are you okay?” He touches my body.
“Why are you here?” I scream, gasping in between breaths.
“You don’t want to be?” Yes I feel bad, but look what he’s doing to me.
“I just want to be alone. When I’m in here I don’t want anyone else in here.”
“Okay. But what did I do?”
I pause letting my sobbing calm itself down. “I’m a freak!”
“How? How are you a freak?”
“I feel horrible. I have fat legs,” I pinch my thighs “I’m-I’m ugly!”
“Emma. Do you seriously think you’re ugly?”
“And I don’t know why you’re with me. Every time I’m with you, you make me feel like I don’t deserve you. Everywhere we go, every step we take together I feel like you’re closer in dumping me.”
His face was blank and I roll my watery eyes. “Just go. End it now so I don’t look stupid later.”
“Emma, I love you. You have beautiful legs,” he places his hand on my thigh “a beautiful face, a beautiful everything. I’m no where near ending this relationship because I like you, a lot. And whatever it is you’re going through, we’ll get through it.”
“It’s embarrassing. I can’t get over it. I've tried! It’s, so hard.”
“Look at me,” my eyes search his face. “I’ll help you. I love you and I’ll always be right there for you. You deserve me and I deserve you. Neither of us are better than each other, we’re just right. That’s why this will work.”
I slowly caress his face with my hand. “Landon, I love you so much,” and he nods. And smiles. “Why can’t I just, love you?”
“You’re beautiful.” He touches my hair “You’re hair… you’re lips,” and he kisses me.
I want to think I have been exaggerating too much about how I look and how I’m not good enough for people, but what good does it make in admitting it? I know Landon was a huge problem with my insecurity; I never told him how I felt, how awful I felt. But I honestly do feel better. Because at first I didn’t want anyone in the ballet studio when I was in it and now I can passionately kiss my boy friend and not obsess with the way I look.
I look back in the mirror, with Landon cradling me. I put my hair up in a bun and take off my favorite shoes. “You’re still beautiful,” he says and kisses me again.
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