You oughta hear the mirror in my house.
You oughta fear her pretty, pretty mouth.
Says I’m imperfect in every way:
Miss Almost, Miss Maybe, Miss Halfway.
I rarely (and I do mean rarely… waaay less than once a week) look in a mirror. I don’t wear makeup and I don’t do my hair. I don’t even own a hair brush. I feel like a mirror is an invitation to pick myself apart. Which I do quite enough on my own, without visual aides.
