Ever since I was a little girl,
looking in the mirror made me want to hurl because the image that was presented to me did not sit well in my stomach.
I saw my eyes glad over and a ginormous tear roll down my cheek as anger and rage boiled inside and pulsed through my veins,
I couldn't help but scream to the heavens, crying, questioning, "why do I look like this?"

There's no real use in frivolous self-pity,
so I pity my parents for giving birth to a daughter that will never resemble the gorgeous girls on TV, in magazines, or even on my softball team.

I pity my brother who must despise the fact that people say we look like twins.
My brother is so handsome and fair, with his brown, flipped up hair and eyes to match.
His structure is magnificent, with every muscle and jaw line defined.
Tall and slender, my brother is perfect in my eyes.

I pity my friends who must be seen with the teen who carries the genes of the obese Bride of Frankenstein, with skin so pale and the body of a true monster.
From head to toe, my flaws only grow more prominent.

I know we are all supposed to have been made in God's image, but who would've thought God was this ugly.