"How the Evil Queen Must've Felt"

How the Evil Queen Must've Felt

I feel my forehead press up against the cold, grimy tile of the shower wall
as the intensely hot water attempts to un-tense my neck.

Opening my eyes to the steam I gaze

down

past my chest,

waist,

and fat little knees that,

in just the right light,

could make faces at you.

With beady little eyes and smirking mouths.

I feel a drop of water s

off my nose and watch as it lands in the pool
created at the base of the miniscule stall - a result of a hair-matted drain and
pipes that had lost contact with their dear departed friend Liquid-Plumber.

Through the film of soap resting on the top of the water

I glimpse my chip

ped Autumn Sunset toenails and think that they’re really more of a Mulberry Breeze if you ask me.

I see my distorted

reflection|noitcelfer

/refraction

- I never did understand Physics though I did get an A in it -

the SMALL

mIs-s^ha_pen,

almost pre-pubescent breasts,

the w i d e hips

well-insulated thighs.

the _j ig g l y stomach.

The mildewy image stares back at me with the same fierce strength as the liquid
raining down on my back from the water-pik shower head.

I know I should get out soon or I will be forced to acknowledge that stare.

stare

stare

Shutting off the water I towel-turban my head and stand
dripping in front of the steam-covered mirror.
.rorrim derevoc-maets eht fo tnorf ni gippird
dnats dna daeh ym nabrut-lewot I retaw eht ffo gnittuhS

So used to routine, I forget what is next.

Oh, right.

Towel off-first the f a
c e,
shoulders,
arm,    arm,
torso, back,
butt,
leg,     leg,
foot,     foot...

Brush hair, check.
Contacts in, check.
Underwear on, then clothes.
Now for the makeup...

Concealer for the acne, foundation for the dark circles.
Badges of honor her best friend called them.
Proof of difficult,

exhausting,

endless

work.

Now I hide them.

Like everything else.

I stop.

Stare.

Amazement.

The ugliness doesn’t seem to be here today.
The thunder thighs are almost...acceptable?
The small breasts are tolerable for once.
Fat suddenly seems almost elegant,

sturdy....pretty?

Maybe today the oversized jeans and the baggy
sweater will be replaced. Shorts and a tank top?
No.
Let’s take this slowly.

A t-shirt.

I can handle that.
Why do I have to conceal everything, hide
from the world? Because of some glossy celery-eater?

Why don’t I have the courage to wear a backless shirt when the
girls who usually do need to cover up more
than I do...aren't’ they cold?
It’s not like they have anything to insulate
them.

Mirror | rorriM
Maybe I’ll smile today.
Hey, that’s not so bad.
The mirror smiles back.

Snow White be damned.

Lisa Game, 2000

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