Mirror Mirror on the Wall, Who’s the Baddest Bitch of All

She feverishly starred into the mirror, as part of her daily morning ritual. The reflection on the glass surface praised her. She studied her corpulent figure, her bones blanketed with what she called “extra cushion.” She beamed in the mirror, examining her slightly crooked bottom teeth as well as her one pronounced dimple that’s situated on the right side of her pale pink lips. Naked, she began dancing and watching the flesh of her curvaceous body wriggle in all directions. Allowing her hair to fall and pirouette around her head, she continued to whirl around carelessly. Her internal rhythm maundered her limbs in fluid movements.

Freely moving her body, she began to laugh out loud shamelessly. Her lively roar ricocheted, striking the surface of the glass then slowly reverberating. The powerful echoes of her laughter captivated her body. Vigorous sound waves gamboled into her ears and tangoed with her rhythm. For her, each day seemed to be an increasing crescendo as the sound continued to resonate inside of her. 

 Reminiscing on the days where her reflection once mocked her, she was happy with how far she had come. Mirrors are ubiquitous objects, so, she had to learn to love the person who stared back at her each day. She found it fascinating how you can choose what becomes visible, how you can choose which image destroys you and which image makes you thrive. And there was a noticeable difference in her image when she began to dance instead of march.

For a moment, she thought to herself “if anyone could see me right now, they would think I’m so crazy!” Ironically, the thought of others opinions made her laugh harder because the only eyes who sincerely mattered, were the ones of her reflection. And those eyes watched without criticism, mimicking every movement, learning her internalized beat until their pulses were in sync. She carried this image with her throughout the day, excited to project its music.

Author’s Note

*Disclaimer* I do not dance alone naked in the mirror… that often. This piece was inspired by Tobia Wolff’s short story, “Bullet in the Brain,” where she slowed down the description of the bullet raveling through the brain. Similarly, I took one moment and slowed down time- and experimented with writing into the details of it, into the micro-movements. In other words, I took one action/ moment (a girl viewing herself in the mirror), made it the central focus and teased out the details.

The moment focused on from last week’s assignment was “she looked in the mirror.” Instead of making it grim and critical, I tried fictionalizing the opposite scenario- looking at herself and loving the reflection.

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