As the hot water trickles down my body causing steam to cloud around me, I wipe furiously at the tears that stream down my face. I’m so tired of feeling this way. This is pretty much a weekly routine for me it seems like. The shower is the only place I can cry without anyone noticing my red rimmed eyes or the mascara stains that would otherwise streak my face. I turn the shower off and let the cool air dance around my body for a few more seconds as I gather my emotions, something I’ve become accustomed to.
I make sure to lay a towel down on the floor before stepping out of the shower. My socks are waiting for me on top of the toilet, because there isn’t anything much worse than wet feet on carpet. I wrap my hair up in a towel and step out into my bedroom. While searching for something to wear, my reflection in the mirror catches my attention. Even though I’m far from perfect, I’ve never really been ashamed of my body. My shoulders have always been slightly too large for the rest of my body, but my hips seem to even them out. As I analyze my body, I turn to look at my side profile. My breasts lead down to my taut stomach. My eyes zero in on the small scar directly below my left breast, sitting on my rib cage. A constant reminder of the prison my life has become…
Maxin and Relaxin All Cool 