I get up every morning, fresh start, right?

Wrong.

I wake up in darkness knowing when I turn on that light and I look in that mirror I will hate what I see.

I am ok with my face most days.

It's nothing special, nothing sunningly beautiful.

Then I remove my night clothes to change and that's when the hate begins.

My features, I wish I could cover them up and they will never be seen.

It wasn't just years of horrid comments, it was me, being self concious, deppressed.

Sometimes I cry myself to sleep because I wish I had a bigger this, or a nicer that.

I don't know why.

I guess it's the girl in me.

And I also don't know what good enough looks like.

But I grew up with the belief that bigger is better.

Now it is eating me alive.

Your shirt hangs too low?

If you had big boobs you wouldn't have that problem, my gremlin whispers.

Your butt looks flat?

Because it is and you hate it, my self hate tells me.

And yes.

I am as petty as those girls who worry anout this same thing.

Yes.

I'm pathetic for letting this consume me.

I am just plain Jane pathetic.

And no.

I don't feel sorry for myself, I just want to love myself.

I wanna wake up and say wow, you know Cassidy, you look amazing today.

Or maybe I should say that, lie to myself.

As my history teacher would say, "A lie told often enough becomes true."

"Cassidy you are beautiful. You aren't worthless. You aren't a failure. I love my body."

I wonder how many times I have to repaet that.

100? 500? 1000? 10000000?

I can only find out.