Mirror Mirror

December 14, 2012

Today it is Friday, and I am ready for the wonderful dance that is about to take place at my school. And this year, I have a date. Weston will see me in my beautiful dress. I want him to see how great I look. Especially now that I lost ten pounds.
I'm at 98lbs. If you ask me, that's a pretty god damn great achievement. All I have to do is to keep going, and make it to 95lbs. Three pounds less will make me fly. Three pounds less will make me soar. I will be beautiful.
After slipping myself into the dress I bought a month ago, I zip it up with perfect ease, compared to last time I tried it on.
I look like the perfect punk girlfriend, blonde hair now purple, shagged up into a fluffy mess. A little bit of eyeliner, and bam. I look directly at myself through the elongated mirror, and I analyze myself. The dark blue dress forms my body into a smoother more slender shape. If only I would look like this in casual clothes. I tie up my black ribbon in the back, and I slip my black combat boots on.
My outfit is on point for once. All I have to do is get rid of my chubby arms...
The door bell rings, and I can hear that my mother invited my boyfriend in.
Weston will love what I'm wearing. Now that I turned full out punk just for him, I'm sure he'll love me even more tonight.
I slowly take my time to walk upstairs towards the doorway to get a reaction from Weston. He smiles and his eyes go directly to my hair.
"Wow." He says. Smiling at me.
He grabs my hand, and we walk out the front door, waving to my family as his father is waiting to drive us to the school.
I look at him with perfect measure. He's wearing a cheap suit, with a small top hat. Not exactly my kind of choice of fancy clothing for a guy to wear, but Weston is his own person. I just have to accept that.
...
We arrive at the school, hand in hand. I walk inside the front doors, and I see the ticket booth being ran by the seniors. I guess this is their grad fund.
The senior girl with round cheeks and red hair peers at us, and says, "4 dollars per person."
Weston looks at me, and searches his wallet for change. I can see that he's scrounged out a few quarters, but only enough for one person.
He makes an awkward ashamed smile, and whispers low, "I'm sorry Kenna, but could you pay?"
I roll my eyes.
I'm not one of those cliche girls who feel like guys have to pay for the girl every single time. But it's rather annoying because I buy him more things than he buys me. Who pays for the lunch he eats everyday? Me. Who buys him candy when we go up the convenient store? Me. Who is the one who actually gives a damn?
Only me.
I walk away without his hand, and make my way to the ATM.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
I take out a good solid twenty, and pay our fare onto the dance floor.

After about twenty minutes in the crowd, Weston still hasn't offered to dance. Instead, he's sitting on the sidelines. I walk up to him. "Dance with me, please?"
"I don't dance."
"Please?"
"I'm just waiting to talk to someone."
Oh, thanks. I'm so glad he could come with me to this event. I don't say anything, and I look down at myself. I'm never good enough for him. I'm never good enough for anybody really.
He looks up and smiles, for a second I thought he changed his mind about dancing, but his gaze is no longer on me. I look over, and it's Desiree.
He waves her over, and she sits down.
Fuck him.
Desiree bats her eyelashes, and twirls her hair around her fingers. She starts chatting away, and Weston seems to be deeply engrossed considering his eyes are all over her. She leans over and gives him a big hug, with her giant chest pressing against him. He smiles, and look at me square in the eyes.
I walk out of the school trying to collect my fury. I hate him.
I hate him.
And that's when I run. I run, the mysterious dark girl in the night, not caring anymore. If I had gotten kidnapped right now, or if a car came around the corner and hit me, I wouldn't be fazed at all.
...
I returned home after drying up my tears and dabbing my eyes.
I opened the front door, hearing it slightly creak, as I close it right behind me.
Hopefully nobody heard me.
Thank god, they are all sleeping.

I tip toe down the stairs, ripping off my dress in exhaustion. I look at my hair, it's a little damp, almost stuck to my head. I realize that the purple is absolutely horrendous.
Weston better be fucking grateful.
What an idiot.
Why is he so stupid? Why am I stuck in a goddamn relationship with this idiot?
....If you break up with me, I will ruin your life....
I blame myself for being such a mess, such a failure, such a burden.
I'm never good enough, not my grades, not for my parents, and not even for Weston-the one person I thought was there for me.
Who do I have when nobody else is there to trust?

I realize that what I have going on isn't exactly a horrible situation. I look at everybody else-and they have abusive fathers or absolutely no money or being bullied 24/7. And I'm just stupid for even thinking that my life sucks. There is nothing wrong. I'm just an idiot, making myself do this, making myself not eat-making myself feel bad. But I can't just not feel bad. I feel bad all the time. I'm stuck in this endless monotonous cycle of pain that never seems to end. What is the point when there isn't anything joyous to live for anymore? What is the point if all I do is focus on dieting, and trying to impress Weston? And I can't stop what I'm doing either. Or I'm a failure.
Big
Fat
Failure
Why am I like this? What is wrong with me?
Everything is wrong with me.

I lay of the side of the my bed, facing the dark eerie wall, and I pull out my bobby pins in my hair. Fiddling with the end of it, I find a sharp point, and prick it on my finger for testing.
Good enough.