Tuesday, November 29, 2011

just write: therapy.

She stands in the small room looking at her reflection, taking in every detail. She hates what she sees, tears welling in her eyes as she turns to look at her backside, turns to the side, and turns to the front. The 360 degree mirrors miss nothing. She tries to look away but can't escape from her reflection. How did she get to this place? How did she spiral so far down, and when did it happen?

It was a slow progression; each day she let something go, each gossamer-thin thread that was her confidence snapped until she felt herself dangling by a tiny thread. This was the last humiliation.

The doors to the room open the door and her saviors step in. There is concern in their eyes, but behind those furrowed brows is a shimmer of hope. She looks at her feet, the blush of embarassment creeping up her neck like the incoming tide. They tell her, first of all, that she is beautiful. Affirmations and critiques spill from their mouths alternately. She is reduced to rubble and rebuilt, brick by brick. Eventually, she believes she is beautiful, too.

What Not to Wear: retail and psycho therapy all in one.

I am visiting my parents and spent my afternoon watching the What Not to Wear marathon. 

linking up with Just Write.

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