The whimsical mirror. [H.S]

[02]

"I'm home." Ophelia announces to her mum, whom she's sure is cooking something like she always does in the kitchen. She takes off her shoes and immediately unties her ponytail. It's been nagging her neck all day and making it sweat. Even though Ophelia knew her hair is soft and beautiful, she still felt insecure and wouldn’t let it down completely; which led to a constant ponytail or a messy bun, both of which hurt her neck more. Ophelia loves her mum dearly but she knows for a fact she was one of the reasons she grew up to be so insecure, if not the main reason actually. Her mum always made her believe there is only one way to be beautiful: that is when girls are skinny, have perfect feminine bodies and the purest skin. So, when her face started showing acne and she ended up fatter than expected, she hated herself even more. Her mum always made comments that she would label as "jokes". Ophelia never said anything back but she always cried about it alone in her room, when it was dark and she was sure no one would hear her sobs or witness her tears. She wasn't even that fat, she was more chubby than fat and though she didn't think it was that bad, she thought it mattered because of the way people looked at her. She thought they made fun of her when she wasn't looking, laughed at her when she wasn't listening. She cared and wished so hard she didn't.

"- Hey honey, how was your day? Her mum asks once Ophelia was settled on the couch, turning on T.V and mindlessly flicking through the channels.

- Okay, I guess. The usual, live sessions, more assignments, yada yada.

- Okay, that's good. Are you hungry? I've made hamburger sandwiches for lunch for me and your dad, but you could also have your salad if you really want to…" Her mum mumbled anxiously looking at her. Ophelia has been basically starving herself. She barely eats and spends the rest of the day dealing with her growling stomach, the constant ache and hunger eating her alive. She restricted herself to salad, all day and every day. She was going to do anything she could to fit the image the society has shaped for perfect girls, even if it meant starving herself to death.

"- I'll have salad mum, okay? It will always be a green salad and you must get used to it. It's been four days you've been asking me, basically wanting to shove food down my throat when I don't want to and don't need to. I'm fine." She didn't even finish the sentence when her stomach did the loudest growl she ever heard and her cheeks reddened in embarrassment and anger, directed at her stupid stomach or maybe her mum. She was the one who started it so why is she against it now?

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Ophelia sat down at the table, glancing sadly at her salad then back at the sandwiches her mum made and was now devouring with her dad. She almost shed a tear but didn't. She picked up her fork instead and picked at her salad trying to eat it without throwing up. She usually hated it and hated vegetables in general but how ironic, it's all she eats now.

Ophelia is a lonely child and this of course had its pros and cons. She had almost everything she wanted, one would say she's spoiled but she really isn't because she never asked for much anyway. However, as she grew up, her parents had more expectations, they yearned to shape her future, her looks, her likes and dislikes. They wanted their dreams to be hers so when she decided she wanted to be an artist and study art, it was a huge fight. They've tried over and over again to convince her to pursue any other career but it was useless because her mind was
set. Art was her and she was art. There was no other way to explain the connection she felt whenever she felt her paintbrush's strokes on the blank canvas, bringing to life a figment of her imagination. Without art, Ophelia couldn't imagine coping with her life or the hell she's been through for years.

"Are you okay love? You seem off." Her dad suddenly asks her. She was caught off guard as she and her dad don't talk a lot. She doesn't know why but maybe it's because he's always so busy with his work he barely has time for her. He was kind but she wished they bonded more.