I glimpse my reflection in the shop window and recoil wide eyed from the grotesque image.
My skin is pig pink, pitted and shiny, my bulbous nose overhangs thin lips and don’t get me started on my body.
‘You have a distorted view of yourself, therapy will help,’ you say.
One by one you strip away my layers, unleash my insecurities until they are free to fly away. You wrap your arms around me as we stare at my reflection. ‘See what I see,’ you beg, ‘You’re exquisite.’
A pool of beauty stifled for so long bubbles to the surface. I shine. I am beautiful.
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt.