The Mirror Had Made Her Sick

I felt sick as I stared squarely into the mirror trying to look past the limp double chin and the pudgy red
cheeks. My eyes were drawn unconsciously to the overbearing enormity of my stomach, sticking out as
if it were a beacon, bulging and round. I followed the curve of my body down and was met by the
unsightly stumps which were my legs. A flinch of disgust flashed across my face as I wondered what
my mum had meant when she said I had inner beauty. But thats what parents are for I guess, to make
you feel special, even if youre not.
I slipped past my mum and out of the house. Trudging down the well worth pathway I watched as
people tried to sneak surreptitious glances at me. I knew what they thought as they watched me plod
down the street, Wow, shes so fat. She must eat a lot, or Does she not see herself? She should go
on a diet. Didnt they know that I already knew? That I was trying to fix myself? My eyes blurred
with unshed tears as I made my way reluctantly to what would be hell on earth for the next six hours:
school.
*
The classroom was silent save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock. Dread coiled itself around me as
the second hand marched slowly towards the twelve point. Nine. Ten. Eleven. RING, RING, RING.
The classroom filled with the shuffling of feet and scraping of chairs as students bustled around
preparing for lunchtime. I sank lower into my seat, hoping that for once, no one would notice me, that
there would be no name-calling, no teasing. But even as I yearned for solitude, the sound of giggling
drew my attention. A group of girls huddled outside the doorway, sniggering and pointing at me as one
whispered loudly Look, its freaky Jess. What a weirdo. Whats she eating today? I tried to calm my
thoughts, to imagine myself as a sand bank, letting the waves wash away the hurt I felt from their

words. But in my mind, a clear and distinct line in the sand had been drawn. A line that separated me
from those who were normal; who were BEAUTIFUL.
When the clock struck three, I ran home crying, wishing that I would look like everyone else. I
comforted myself by looking through the magazines Id stolen from my sister, smiling at the glamorous
models sporting size 0s and wishing that I could also look like them. I vowed to myself that someday,
I would cross that line in the sand and that I too would be beautiful. That one day, Id show all the
people whod looked at me funny and all the other kids who had teased me. I glanced back into the
haunting surface of the mirror, hoping that Id see thinner, prettier, more desirable me, but I was
disappointed with the reality.
*
Mums shrill call for dinner was followed by a rush of footsteps as the rest of the family ran down to
the alluring aroma of home cooking. I followed them; long after the echo of footsteps had faded. Once,
I too would have rushed to dinner, anticipating the days meal, brimming with excitement over what
would be on the table. Instead, I slipped silently into the hall outside the dining room and peeked in.
The dinner table offered a bouquet of appealing scents and sights. I looked longingly at the steaming
roast chicken and creamy potato mash that had always been my favourite. The smell of the thick, herb
infused gravy wafted over to me and I felt my stomach churn and contract protesting for the food I
would not give it. COULD not give it. Not if I wanted to become normal, to be called pretty Jessie
instead of Jessie the weirdo. Not if I wanted to stop being the fat, chubby child I was. I had to
persevere. If I just held on for a little more, Id be normal; Id be BEAUTIFUL.
Resolutely, I walked up the stairs and into my room, taking out the stolen magazines from under my
bed. I gazed longingly at the slim figures and tried to imagine myself as one of them. But even in my
imagination, I was tubby. I sighed and rolled over, once again looking into my reflection. I willed

myself to sleep; all the while ignoring the stabbing pain in my stomach. As my eyes drooped, the image
in the mirror blurred. Underneath my mirror image, I could almost see a thin figure gazing back at me.
My eyes closed.
*
The room was strewn with the paraphernalia of any teenager schoolbooks, uniforms and magazines,
glossy covers filled with swimsuit models and slim airbrushed bodies. There was a girl lying in the
middle of the bed, emaciated limbs sprawled and her skeletal body slumped. Her reflection stared
gauntly back at her sleeping figure. The mirror had made her sick.