Book excerpt: Anastasia’s Diaries (language warning)
I am well on my way to getting as close as possible to the way I want to look. I have always had self-esteem issues but, for the first time in my life, I am almost okay with what I see in the mirror. Almost. Still, there are more days than not where I scream at my relfection and demand to know “Why it is not perfect? Who is this ragmuffin looking back at me? Why is it not better? Why can I not be rail thin fast enough and why….why did you ever let things get like this?” Of course there is no answer. It’s a reflection. A passing image that is fleeting and…temporary?
Today is one of those days. I had a bad (calorie) day yesterday. My reward? Well, it’s nearly noon and I am proud to say I have yet to eat breakfast and I am not dying to eat. Small victories.
While sitting here playing my phone puzzles, I had come to an understanding. (I guess my puzzle games are not as mind numbing as I would like…ah, but I digress.) For some reason, I started thinking about skinny bitches in magazines. They all look so happy. So beautiful. So thin. So perfect. I then thought about random stories where young girls would loose their chit because they could never match up to the magazine standard. Their frustrations so raw that it is murderous. Sad. Really. But not. I feel that. Not so much at the magazine standard. But the pretty…seemingly perfect….skinny bitch that walked right past you. The skinny blitch everyone loves. Popular, makes good money, is happy, has it all. Even the fleeting glance from your own eyes wishing you could feel that good about yourself and look the part too.
I know there will always be people who look better than me. Prettier. Skinnier. Happier. I still want to trip those people. Skin up your perfect knees blitch. Thia way, a random stranger thinks you were on your knees for other, not so perfect things. Come here. I wanna scratch your face so I can be better than you. Leave my mark so you will remember us common folk. Make you…not so perfect…not so beautiful.
Eh. We all have dreams. Until then. I will be satisfied at screaming at my imperfect reflection and finding some new mind numbing puzzle game to make me forget. To forget the rage I feel inside. To keep it locked up. Away from the perfectly, imperfect world.