Perfectly imperfect

 Mirror mirror on the wall, what do you have against me? Just having one of those days I guess. I look at the person staring back at me with artwork on her face and I sigh. I remember when at 11, tiny protrusions started appearing on my face. I didn't like them no doubt and my best friend told me they didn't look bad "..they look cute.." were her words, yeah, not when they are on your face. The media and society is filled with ideas and advice on how to fight these little things that have plagued my face for years. The under lying message being, there is something wrong with your face, with you, this is how to fix it.

Many a time, I have closed my eyes and tried to imagine what I'd look like without my friends. strange things are happening to me, I'm starting to not mind them, to like them even. There is a certain look I have,that they give me. Yesterday I was watching a video of myself. A webcam video and the one thing that stood out the most was my mouth! The size of that gap! Did someone knock out my front teeth. Growing up, that used to be an issue. I never smiled in the pictures because I just couldn't bear it, as if people didn't see it enough when I was talking. Last week I changed the cover photo for my Facebook timeline. I put a beautiful picture of mostly my face,and a wide grin plastered across it. I sigh, I think I love that picture. I love every thing wrong about the girl in that picture. Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the most beautifully imperfect of them all?

Time's windows

I recently was looking at an old picture of mine. A passport size photograph actually, taken at the beginning of 2009. I used that ID for over a year and the only thing I noticed about the picture is I looked angry, which I have come to discover is my normal look as long as I am not smiling. This time round, three years later, I saw something different. I was sort of taken aback. I couldn't recognise the girl in the picture. She looked broken and tired. The pain in her eyes is unmistakable and the look on her face...fighting to be strong, not knowing if she still knew how. My mind went on a little trip down memory lane not just to that day but to that time. I put my hand to my chest, rubbed it a bit,as if feeling for the scars on my heart, as if soothing the wounds, my mind had taken my heart with it to its trip. The memories felt so fresh as I looked at that girl. I wondered how I ever made it out alive, out of that pain. I am not that girl anymore but that picture creates knots in my chest. Looking at it is just like looking through a window to that point in time, three years ago.