Reflection hugs

"What did I do to deserve this pain", she cried.

Tears now zig zagging down her once dry pale face; each stream running through her pin needle sized freckles.

The therapist hands her a pink rectangle tissue box.

"You have to stop blaming others", he said.

She obnoxiously filled the tissue with sorrow tears and warranted mucus.

"A-are we fucking done here," she uttered.

She furiously rose from her chair, patting her eyes softly again and withdrawing the snot at the entry of her nose. She gulped the mucus in the back of her throat and moved her thin brunette hair from her face.

“I-I-I don’t even know… why? Why do I still come back here, you tell me shit that d-doesn’t work and you side with those that hurt me…”

The ridden tears come back to say hello, and the runny nose resumes its sluggish stream.

“Fuck this office! Fuck your credibility. Oh…and fuck the children’s tissue box you keep handing me,” She shrieks.

She pushed the chair under the table, tossed the colorful tissue box on the table, and gave the therapist a cold-hearted glance before opening his door and walking out with her back to him.

***

She placed her purse on the bar table and repositioned herself on the firm bar stool. Her eyes gaze around the noisy room and the scent of alcohol amplifies her senses. She finally looks Infront of her and catches the bartender staring…

“These chairs are pretty stiff,” she said.

The young, muscular, well-groomed bar tender- dries a section of the table with a black cloth.

“Yeah… these chairs are kind of wonky,” he chuckles.

“Where is Sarah? She usually works around this time.”

“She called out because she was sick,” he replies.

“What’s so funny? You seem to can’t stop smiling and giggling, am I ugly or something?"

“Hey… chill”.

His smile quickly departed, and worry took over. He looked at her curiously.

 “Um…what would you like to drink ma’am”.

“S-sorry… I’ve had a long day; can I get a Manhattan.” She replied as stress came over her face. She looked around at the different people and noticed a couple in the corner of the room. The couple was clearly wasted but were inching on the verge of intimacy.

“Coming right up,” he replies.

She watched dully as he performed unnecessary tricks and flaunted his cheesy smile. Her eyes remained attached to his pecks flexing in his black skin-tight shirt; The eyes then moved towards his chiseled arms, that only the Greeks could truly appreciate. She returns her eyes to his face...

“You have a girlfriend?”, she asked.

“Maybe? Maybe not, whose asking?”

She seductively looked at him while he placed the drink Infront of her.

“You want to get out of here, and chill at my place,” she whispers, as she bites her lip.

“Um…I have a girlfriend,” he mutters.

“Why the fuck would you smile at me and say that then?”

She dully looks at him, takes a sip and reaches into her purse to pull out bills.

“All you guys are the same, I had enough, the drink is shitty by the way, and you’re a misogynistic prick.”

“What are you talking about…misogynistic? theirs always one weird customer of the day” he replied.

She got up from her seat and forcefully placed bills on the table. She looked in the direction of the couple in the corner of the room.

“A-a-and you freaky ass weirdos, you might as well get nasty on that dirty floor; you guys are basically choking eachother with tongue.”

She proceeds to stick up her middle finger at the bartender. "Fuck you, fuck those fake muscles and fuck that creepy smile." The once full drink is now purposely tipped over by her rage.

“You’re acting like a child ma’am,” the bartender says.

“I’m the child, but with all that muscle you probably have a small pecker in those pants,” She replies.

She grabs her purse and furiously walks out of the bar; every civilian clearing her path, so they are not met by her wrath.

***

In her apartment, she boils some tea, turns on the tv and begins to weep into her couch seat.

“I’m a fucking failure…I-I get dumped over some bullshit and all men are shitty. My hair is ugly my face is ugly; this tattoo of my cat is ugly.”

She walked to the bathroom in shambles, her eyes red from crying and her nose dripping like a faucet. She flicks the bathroom light on and is immediately met by her reflection.

“What am I missing?” She cries.

She stares at herself in the large oval mirror Infront of her sink. She lets the water run and just continuously stares. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned into an hour. This was truly a moment of self-reflection for the young woman.

“Oh…my…god, I get it. I fucking get it!”

She blows her nose into a tissue and her whole aura changes. The once sad damsel in distress, is now coated by happiness. She converses with her reflection.

“When was the last time I loved- ME? When was the last time I spoiled ME!”

She sadistically smiles at her reflection, while grabbing a pair of scissors in a draw next to the sink.

“I’ve always wanted to try -the Uma Thurman brunette look,” she chuckles.

With the scissor in her right hand and a strand of jet-black hairs in her left, she began to cut away. As each each handful of hair hit the sink basin, her smile grew intensely and so did her confidence. Thirty minutes passed and she was finally done.

“Wow... I did it. I finally did something for me. This is what that self-love shit is about,” she chuckles.

The brunette bob she had in her mind was nowhere close to what she saw in the mirror. Her hair was uneven, but she was accepting of her appearance. She gave her reflection a hug in the mirror.

“Let me see what I can do tomorrow, hmmm…probably sushi at three and pedicure at five.”

She walked away from the bathroom and ecstatically plopped down on her living-room couch. A steamy romantic scene was on the tv screen, she quickly changed the channel, but immediately she remembered the couple in the bar and a warm sensation came over her. She switched the channel back without hesitation.

“I don’t need a muscular bartender to please myself either.”

She bites her bottom lip in a seductive manner and reaches into her pants with her right hand. With the tv remote in her left hand, she increases the volume to block out the night life outside and the incoming explicit sounds she would make later that night.