By Alicia Hall

I just spent yet another horrible session in the bulge booth. The fat fabricator. The mass
multiplier. Formerly known as a department store changing room.

I can't comprehend how stores ever expect to sell a thing when they install trick mirrors that
triple your body weight. I know I'm not imagining this, my mirrors at home work just fine. Isn't
that truly amazing? You can look in your own mirror day in and day out. You can dress, deck
out and feel like a million, until you see yourself in public. Women don't flee restaurants
because of their blind dates. They make the mistake of powdering their nose and it's all over
but the shouting. You'd think places that sell food wouldn't want to use trick fat mirrors either.
I just don't understand why they can't find mirrors that work as well as mine.

Cosmetic counters need help too. I think it's the lighting there. My chin doubles, my pores
expand exponentially and huge trenches form in my skin. If I didn't know better, I'd almost say
the trenches resembled wrinkles. Nah. No one with chiseled features and porcelain skin like
me could have those problems. My mirror at home assures me I still have the face of a fresh
young 17 year old. You'd think these people would be more concerned about such blatantly
false images of their customers.

The worse offenders are those giant windows on store fronts and downtown bank buildings.
There must be only one manufacturer for those. The company must have someone with a
really sick sense of humor who designs the windows. I've yet to pass one and look evenly
remotely human. They always make me gain 50 pounds, 10 years and 4 chins. If the
designer's talents had been used for good instead of evil, we could have solved world hunger
by now.

It's gotten so that I insist on carrying around one of my own mirrors from home. Every time I
pass a store front, I stop at least two people and make them look at my reflection in my own
mirror. I have to show them the real me, it's only fair. You'd be amazed how many of them say
they've thought of doing the same thing.

One woman suggested making a harness to wear my mirror. She held it up to show me what
she meant. The dear creature, even my perfect mirror couldn't help her. She assured me her
own mirror was utterly marvelous. I, of course, believed her. We realists have to stick together.

For now, I've resigned myself to the fact that, somewhere, there is a horrible person laughing
like a hyena at all of our expense. Until this creaton is found and tortured, I will continue to
carry my mirror in self defense. If I have to show everyone I meet my mirror, I will. We thin,
trim, fine skinned beauties can never take the power of our mirrors for granted. Just look into
your own, you'll see what I mean.

I've got to go, time to spit polish my best friend.
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