Some days when I look in the mirror and study every angle and curve, the woman staring back at me is a goddess.
Her dark locks hang past her shoulders, each curl perfectly twisted.
Her eyes are dark pools of a marbled green and blue, pulling me in with each blink.
Her mouth is puckered into a low grin, the deep pink of her lips glitters as she speaks enchantingly.
And her body.
Her body dips and dances in the perfect spots, her rosy skin glowing under the yellow light.
She moves to the beat of a symphony of Gibsons and Fenders.
She is flawless.
On the other days when I stare into the mirror, I see a hideous beast that appears to have never set foot outside her corridors.
Her hair is knotted with a revolting shine that has collected in the form of grease atop her scalp.
Her eyes are the color of swamp water, a truly nasty shade.
Her mouth is dry and cracked from anxious biting, a habit she picked up in the fifth grade.
And her body!
Her body is miles and miles wide, bitter scars riddling it with guilt and evil.
She is the most macabre creature to roam the earth.
