Hair

She loved her hair.

Unbelievably soft, a lovely shade of auburn that shifted with the sun, darker or lighter respectively. It held soft waves that tumbled around her shoulders, and her greatest joy was in it. She took pride when someone noted it, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the healthy colour, the split ends that weren't there, the tangles that never existed. She loved her hair. The only thing she loved was her hair.

Hiding behind it was a past time of hers that she enjoyed frequently. If they only saw the boundless, waved glory at first, they would not notice the dark circles that lay beneath her dull green eyes. They would not notice the pimple she got last week on her forehead that she had since not been able to get rid of. And most of all, if their focus was on her head, they would not notice the soft pudge that pushed her t-shirt out slightly. They would not notice how her jeans obviously gave her a muffintop with their excruciating tightness she endured just to feel like maybe when she walked through the halls at the school the boys would look at her legs, encased tightly in denim. They would not notice how her arms flapped like bird's wings whenever she moved them.

She didn't move them often.

If she hid behind her hair, they would not notice how she always wore long sleeved shirts to hide her pudgy arms. They would not notice how she curled her fingers into her sleeves so that her short and stubby fingers would not be seen. If she hid behind her hair, they would not notice how cracked and dry her lips were, despite the constant sheen of watermelon lip gloss coated over them. Twice, because that was what Glamour said.

Now, as she sat on the cold linoleum floor of one of the school's bathroom stalls, her finger poised neatly in her throat, waiting and wanting her gag reflex to kick in she couldn't do it. She knew she wanted too - she would no longer have to hid behind the hair that had enshrined her whole life. If she did, she would most certainly start a dangerous trend. She would lose the extra weight that clung to her curves. She would be able to ask those pretty girls what gloss they used to plump their lips without feeling so completely inferior. She would be able to wear those jeans she saw at Rue 21 like she really owned them, and was not just breaking them in for a far skinnier friend with her wide hips and soft tummy.

Staring at the healthy strand of hair that had slipped from behind her ears, she knew she could not do it. Her hair had been her one true defense against the world. It was beautiful, it was lovely. It was everything she wanted the rest of her to be. She could not lose it. She couldn't lose the thick, pretty strands to a thin body and plump lips and an acne free face .. she knew the second her lunch hit the water of the dirty toilet, it would suck the beauty away. Her hair would get thin, brittle; everything it had never been.

She stood and flushed the clear water.

She loved her hair.