Mom's Little Monster

I am a monster. When I open my eyes in the morning, I shut them quickly, thinking to myself that I shouldn’t have to wake up and face another day. Every part of me just wants to stay right here in my bed. Mostly, I dread having to look at myself in the mirror. I know that I’m ugly and I don’t need a reminder. The reflection staring back at me is that of a pale, fat girl. There are three rolls that form my unattractive middle body. My thighs are enormous and I have never had a space between them. The ring on my right index finger barely fits. My hands are so chubby. I used to paint my finger nails pink and sometimes red. But I learnt that it just drew more attention to my hands. My hair is bright red. I hate it. The tangled curls dreadfully sit on my head. When I lean closer to the mirror with my eyes squinting, it’s hard to find one clear area on my face. My mom says that it’ll pass but four years later and it seems like it wont. I close my eyes tightly; wishing that when I open them I’ll see a beautiful girl with long brown hair and porcelain skin. I turn away without opening my eyes because I like to pretend that my wish came true. 

 At school, I walk the corridors leaving my head down; hoping no one will notice me, which is usually the case. The ones who do notice me are girls who pity me or boys who whisper about the monster they see before them. I never put my hand up in class to answer a question. I don’t want to be noticed. Instead, I say the answer in my head and I am right most of the time which is satisfying enough. Everyone gets excited when we have group project assignments. As the teacher explains what the assignment will consist of (a lot of getting together outside of class) I sink in my chair. The worst is when we get to choose our own groups. I always end up being placed (by a teacher) into a group who sink in their chairs when they realize that it’s their turn with the monster. At lunch I sit alone at a long white cafeteria table with the occasional company of a teacher or special-aids person. I eat my lunch quickly and then burry myself in either homework or a novel. When I glance up, I see pretty girls, so skinny, standing with all of their best friends. They are laughing and flipping their long hair. I see a table of boys who seem fixated on the group of girls like young children are on strangers. I think to myself that I will never be looked at that way. No one wants a monster.

 On weekends I go over to Annie’s house. Annie is my cousin and she is one year younger than I am. She is skinny, unlike me, has long blonde hair and green eyes. She is beautiful. Annie has no idea that she is beautiful and seems to ignore the fact that I am less than ordinary. She always makes me try on her clothes which never fit right and tries convincing me that I am “super cute.” We watch movies together and do our homework together. Annie is my only friend. She tells me about the crushes she has on older boys, who I sometimes have a crush on too but never dare mention. When Annie has other plans on the weekend I am resentful. She’s supposed to be my friend. Rarely will she invite me along, but when she does I always decline because I don’t want my ugliness to stand in the way of her having a good time. Annie doesn’t like when I refer to myself as a monster. She says that anyone who has ever made me feel that way is the real monster.

 My mom is gorgeous. She is tall, thin and has long red curls that shine. She shouldn't have created such an opposite looking kid like me. She says that I'm beautiful and she might mean it, but only because she's my mom.