Writing for Fun
July 2015
Mirror, Mirror - Vivian Burdon
Her discarded clothes were scattered across the carpet. Each coordinated outfit cast adrift in anger and despair. A churning, tumultuous sea of confused folds lay around her feet, tossing her emotions on angry waves of self loathing.
She tried to stare through her accusing reflection to a calmer ocean. To catch a glimpse of daddy and his little prince as they sailed away. A smiling little ballerina, in a new pink tutu, only to be glimpsed bobbing away on the horizon.
Her own reflection always contrived to block her view and filled the frame with rolls of flesh. Presenting baggy washerwomen arms, jowls merging into double chins, large breasts submerged into the mass of a lumpen body.
She turned to escape the tidal wave of misery that was engulfing her. She must get to the bathroom; she must get rid of breakfast.
Her mum was waiting, a constant beacon in the dark, guiding her back to safety in a lifeboat constructed of love and understanding. Strong arms that carried her weightless body back to bed. The storm subsided and she was becalmed.
Set adrift in a vast ocean of confusion she screamed silently inside. She was deeply confused and sinking, sinking slowly. How could she be as thin as they said she was? Why, why are they all lying to her?