She trudged into the second floor bathroom of her house, her steps slow and dogged, heavy with both physical and emotional exhaustion that had accumulated over the course of the whole, tiring day. After shutting the door behind her and making sure that it was locked, she peeled off her sweaty clothing, averting her eyes from the mirror, the one object that told the truth, no matter how painful, and showed her the harsh reality of what she was, who she was. But she couldn't blame it, for it was only an inanimate object.

Hesitantly, her jade eyes flickered to her reflection against her better judgment, influenced by the gnawing curiosity that wanted to check if she had changed at all, if she was at least one step closer to being anything other than what she was. That wasn't possible though, for she was herself and only herself, and that's all that she could ever be.

She studied her pale form with wide, disappointed eyes, pinching the piece of skin right below her navel, while simultaneously eyeing the fat that had gathered at her sides, the extra flesh that made her imperfect. She squinted at her shockingly pink, frizzy hair, wondering if its terrible condition was just a dream, and if she would wake up with long, flowing blonde locks the next day.

Her hands dropped to her sides, a lone, bemused scoff resonating through the empty bathroom. Of course it wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.

She snapped her gaze away from the mirror and shuffled to the shower, staring down at her feet, then forcing herself to look back up as she caught sight of her stomach, the little portion of fat that stuck out a little bit further than it was supposed to.

She showered in reflective silence, the only sound being the hypnotizing spray of the cold water making contact with her frame.

Her body simply wouldn't do. She wouldn't do. And as long as she was herself, she couldn't be truly happy, something she had forgotten how to feel long ago.