w r e c k a g e ✓

the wreckage of her flaws

❝All she ever does is hate on herself, that's why I just agree and let her keep thinking that everything is true. I'm not going to let her be an attention whore and get away with it.❞

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SHE COULDN'T WEAR that skirt, the fat around her waist would just spill right out of it. She couldn't wear that shirt, the fitness of it would only show off her rolls. She couldn't wear those jeans, the tightness of it would show off the thickness of them.

She frowned. She sat in front of her mirror in nothing but a bra and underwear. She grabbed her makeup bag and unzipped it. She grabbed her primer and applied it to her face. After a few moments of letting it dry she reached for her concealer. She twisted it open and hovered it over one of many pimples on her face.

No.

The concealer wouldn't hide away her ugliness. It wouldn't work. She put the small concealer stick down and pinched her nose. Even with a face full of make up the largeness of it would still be noticeable.

How disgusting.

She wanted to be pretty so bad. She would do anything to be pretty.
She sighed and lifted up. She could even feel her body jiggle as she stood up. She walked over to her weighting scale and stepped onto it. She stood impatiently as it calculated her weight.

109, it blinked.

She rolled her eyes.

No.

She weighed more than that. She wished the scale would stop lying to her. She knew she weighed more than that because every time she looked in the mirror she saw the opposite of skinny. And every time she looked at her face all she could do was obsess over and examine her flaws. Her face was the opposite of pretty. Everyone around her agreed. She knew she was right.