or when the mirror feels more like a friend than a lethal drug.
with two weeks of school left and summer approaching, i only found it fitting that i start the hunt for a bathing suit. in the dressing room with my mother, i tried on one after the other, and found two tops that fit.
they both felt comfortable and looked nice. my inner dialogue did not harshly criticize my appearance, but instead applauded me for having gotten to the point where i wasn't insecure about my stomach.
congratulations, wren, it resounded in my skull. you look ready to take on the world and look fye doing it.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
