“Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Back in the day, when life was a game, pain was a word and waiting for Daddy to come home from work was the highlight of the day, Dylan’d like nothing more than looking in the mirror, playing in mom’s make-up or making faces. Sometimes, she’d just stare, watching herself transform from one image to the next, molding.
Becoming someone else.
She’d always look away when it got too weird.
Now, she avoided mirrors. Due to the abdication of innocence and the ravages of insecurity, they seemed to show only the worse parts of her.
She smoothed the hair out of her face.
Her eyes were not to be trusted. They always changed. Sometimes, like when she was happy, they were bright, clear, smiling. Sometimes, like when she was pensive, blank, distraught, they were clouded and dark, revealing the storm within them. Anger was particularly frightening; it made her eyes wild, striking, like hell unclosed. Now, they were curious and questioning, like a stranger’s. Their fierceness amplified by the dark smudged around them.
Blue eyes seemed the strangest to her. While brown was warm and natural, blue was too temperamental. Mercurial orbs acting as mood rings, never constant, seemingly accusing all in their sweep. They projected a gaze so intimidating to others that they’d either become interested in that speck encrusted in their shoelace or send their bodies into shifting and ticking, never finding comfort.
They didn’t make her feel unique, either. Being the standard, preferred and admired, made them commonplace. In turn, having them made her like everyone else.
She didn’t feel like everyone else. Why’d she have to look like everyone else? Be like everyone else?
She pinched her cheek, twisting the soft, thick mound.
An image of a runway model flashed into her mind.
She sucked her cheeks in, accenting her cheekbones.
She gathered her hair, twisting it up.
Her head twisted into profile. She looked distorted.
After releasing both, she sighed and began rubbing around her eyes, smearing her make-up gunk, haphazardly.
When she was done, her face looked like water colors spilled onto canvas.
Melted Crayolas.
Her eyes more vibrant and stark.
Who’s the fairest one of all?”