I'm not cool enough for a Tuesday tease, or a Thursday Throw out... so here's my Friday--I tried....


The character of Maggie is very close to my heart. She has survived an abusive relationship, she is a strong woman, and she has body dysmorphia. I get very emotional writing her because sometimes she is a little too real. My hope is that some of you can relate to her as well as I do.








Maggie


I hate that I feel jealous of fictional characters, or rather the actresses that play fictional characters. Last night I left the room like a pouting toddler after he told me that he found the girl in the movie we were watching attractive. I cant help it though, she was perfect. As well as the perfect example of everything I am not. Once upon a time I could have stood next to a woman like that and felt confident that I at least didn't look like a sack of potatoes, but that was a long time ago. Now all I hold is self doubt, and the incessant need to cover myself.


Tyler left his wallet on my coffee table last night. I know he did it on purpose, because I saw him look at it before he walked out. A small smile plays at my lips as I drive the short distance to his shop to drop it off. The flutter in my tummy reminds me that I wanted to see him just as badly as he wanted to see me.


 A deluge of rain soaks my car as I park outside but I don't even think twice about jumping out an running to the door. I stop short, just before the stores awning, when I see the scene playing out in front of me. Ty has his arms wrapped around a petit blonde. His cheek is pressed to the top of her head. Water soaks through my scrubs as I stand and gape. One more step and I could be out of the rain, a short jog back and I could be in my car. Yet I cant move, not even an inch.


The blondes eyes open and she sees me staring like a deer in the headlights, but they slide shut when, to my horror, Ty presses a kiss to the crown of her scalp. My stomach drops to my toes. My posture falls back to the stance I am used to. The defeat I feel in my soul has me reverting back to the woman I was before Ty, the woman I was when I was with Marcus. Turning I trudge back to my car, his wallet still in my hand. I will just drive around back and slide it in his mail slot on his basement apartment.


My rearview mirror guts me as I stare at the image of the broken woman I am. I was fooling myself. That man would never settle for someone like me. Not when he can hold a piece of perfection like the girl in his shop. My reflection distorts as my eyes well with tears. The image now reflected is the one I am used to. The one that looks more like Rocky from the movie Mask than a confident  almost-middle- aged woman. A sob racks my chest and I take one last look at the window of the parlor. The pretty little thing is now standing in the open door, and Ty is following he out, staring right at me. Quickly, I start my car and pull away when I see him walking toward the mini. I don't need or want any excuses. I know what I am, and I am not her.


I need to remember. Only pretty girls get their fairy tales. Not the ugly stepsisters.