Self Conscious

Just a little prose of what it can sometimes be like in my head. I hope you enjoy Here’s the transcript: I wake up in the morning, hair mussed and eyes half-open Stumbling into the shower I let the water saturate my hair, face and body Shampoo lathered and rinsed, I luxuriate in the heat, steam rising off my skin as I scrub myself clean Too soon I have to get out, Putting on a robe and wrapping my hair in a towel I walk into the kitchen. Coffee boiled and drunk Milk and cereal in a bowl. Bathroom again. It is time to make myself presentable to the world Moisturiser, concealer, foundation, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, blush, lip gloss. Hair brushed, combed, teased, blow-dried, straightened, pinned. Put on a bra to keep the girls in place. Wear clothes to give the illusion of a flat stomach. Another coffee, teeth brushed. I look in the mirror and sigh. This will have to do. There is no way I can compete with the stick thin, airbrushed, perfectly coiffed women of magazines. My teeth are too gappy, eyes too small, nose too pointy, hair too frizzy, shoulders too large, hips too small, stomach too big, breasts too droopy, skin too pale, nails too short, feet too flat. But I have my power clothes and war-paint on.. the best that I can do. I step outside the house. Walk to the bus stop. Get onto the bus. I smile at the driver as if I don’t have a care in the world. I arrive in the city. Scores of people walking around… All of them a lot hotter than me. I wish I had those …

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