Mirrors Don't Lie

This story was written by Lauren Martin for the 2020 Power of the Pen short story competition in Hamilton, Ontario. It was awarded 3rd place in the seventeen year old category.

Mirrors Don't Lie

A short story by Lauren Martin

The mirror was never really my friend.

Growing up, I never properly saw a mirror. I never had one of those long mirrors in my room. One where you could check your outfit for stains. I only ever saw myself in the bathroom mirror. It was never more than a glance, though. I would just wash my hands and move on.

My hands were always dirty growing up. I had an older sister, Hannah. The two of us would always be spending time outside with our cousins. We were a group of ratty country kids. We made mud pies, recipes of sticks and only the finest pebbles. We would play hide and seek in the fields of my backyard. Yellow rain boots would protect our feet from the manure. Once I was a little older, I would fight with my boy cousins as the girls stuck to the side and picked flowers. We would all end up with scratches and bruises, and the girls would heal us with dandelions. None of us were safe from the dirt that sits deep under your nails. The kind of dirt you have to peel your finger back and scrape out with your other nails to remove. Our mamas made us wash our hands properly every night before supper.

It wasn’t until I was 10 that I started noticing differences. My sister Hannah one day decided that makeovers were better than mudpies. Hannah was the glue of our group, yet the first to leave. She was fourteen and sick of being a kid.

I remember in eighth grade when Billy McHager called me a “fat ugly fuck.” He was upset that I ran faster than him on Field Day. I told him I was gonna beat him. I grew up fighting my cousins! I was fast and strong. He just didn’t like being proven wrong.

Billy was a nasty boy from the little town where our school was. Half of the school was “farm kids,” and the other half were “neighbourhood kids.” Billy always picked on the farm kids. This wasn’t the first time he’d called me names. One time in class, the teacher asked us to describe a dog. Billy raised his hand and looked directly into my eyes as he said, “stupid, stinky, feral, full of fleas,” and so on. Kids at his table giggled and threw glances at me. The teacher wrote it down on the board with her back turned to us. Any time he’d say something mean to anyone, I’d give him a scary look. Like when I had to work with the bull on the farm. Billy and the bull were the same; single-minded and stupid. I never gave him the reaction he was looking for. But his words hurt me more than I wanted them to. I went home and took a good look in the mirror after Field Day. 

My shoulders were broad. My arms were strong from working in the barn. My hair was like a rat's nest, usually up in some bushy ponytail. My chest was flat. From the side, my stomach pushed out a bit further than the boobs that the boys my age were starting to become fans of. I was bigger than other girls. A mix of muscle and chub. Both things I was no longer proud of.

I cried to my Mama about Billy McHagers' insult. She told me “Jessie, you should never let words affect you. You are beautiful no matter what.” It was a lovely sentiment, but I still felt like crying. Mama was already beautiful and she knew it. If she ever wanted to get her way with Daddy, she would make his favourite dinner; mac and cheese, steak, potatoes, and gravy all over. Her hair would be curled and her cheeks would always be flushed. She would whisper funny things to him during dinner. She would lean away from his ear with a giggle.

Walking back up to my room, Hannah called out to me. “Jessie! Come here! Talk to me about school!” I groaned as I turned back towards her doorway. She’d grown meaner to me over the years. She became a popular girl at school, and scolded me before for “not being normal.” She’d call me hurtful names all day when she was mad. I told her what happened.

“Nobody remembers bullies like the McHagers when you grow up. They’re just looking for attention.”

“It still hurts my feelings.” My arm was rubbing the other in Hannah’s doorway. She was on her stomach on her bed, feet kicking the air behind her. She was looking at a magazine. The page was bright pink. It was filled with pretty laughing girls.

“People like Billy will always exist. You can’t give them something to call you out for!”

“I don’t know what to change.”

“Well, I’ll help you doll up!” She pulled me into her room. There were posters of bands, piles of magazines, and a bean bag chair. The vanity was covered in bottles and tubes of makeup. Hannah dragged me to it and began looking through them all. She handed me a spray bottle. 

“Now, I'll wake you up tomorrow morning for school. Tonight, take a shower with globs of conditioner, right where your hair’s tangled up. When you're done, spritz this in your hair and brush it out.” 

“Do I really need to put in so much work?”

“It’s the work that goes into looking good.”

I remembered what Billy had said. “Do...do I really need the work?” I looked up at Hannah. She met my eyes, concerned. “Like, am I not good enough already?”

“Oh, Jessie,” Hannah looked at me, “everyone’s looking to improve. Attractiveness makes you more approachable.” I guess I didn’t seem convinced. Hannah came over and hugged me tightly. She let go, grabbed my shoulders, and stared at me. Her chin pointed down. “Don’t overthink it.”

The next morning, she woke me up extra early and propped me down on the stool in front of her vanity. The vanity was white and pristine. All the little knick-knacks were organized. Hannah got to work on me. She dragged pencils over my eyebrows and eyelids, put powder on my eyes and face, and carefully chose “the best lipstick for your complexion.” I felt as if I was being decorated like a wedding cake. She also spent 10 minutes with a straightening iron. That was my least favourite part. She burnt me six times.

Hannah let me look at her magazine while she was dolling me up. I looked over all the pretty laughing girls. They all looked different, but they were the same somehow. None of them had muscle or chub. The pretty girls wore lacey dresses, swimsuits and shirt that didn’t cover thor stomach. There was a whole page about makeup brands. Flipping through, I came across an article titled How to be a better kisser. I put the magazine down after that.

When Hannah was done, she turned the stool to the mirror. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the mirror. I looked like her and Mama. My body stayed the same but you couldn’t take a moment to look away from my face. My hair was silky smooth, going straight down. My eyes were bigger. The brown powder made my blue eyes shine. I was so different. I went to school with my head held high, just like Mama told me to. I could see heads turning my way. My friends kept telling me that boys were looking when I wasn’t. Even Billy McHager. 

Hannah kept doing my hair and makeup for the whole week. Then, she told me she could teach me how to do it myself. I went to Mama and asked her to take me to Walmart. She was bent over, going through the fridge and marking up a list of what groceries we needed.

“Jessie, I’m heading out to Walmart in an hour, just let me know what snack you want and I’ll get it for you.” I shook my head at her.

“I don’t need a snack, Mama.”

“Then what do you need Walmart for?”

“Hannah gave me a list of everything I need to be pretty.” Mama snapped up from the fridge and turned to me when she heard that.

“Now why do you need to be prettier than you already are?”

“You know what I mean, Mama. Hannah says attractiveness makes you more approachable. I’m just trying to improve.”

“Has Hannah been putting ideas in your head?”

“Like what?”

Mama walked over and sat me down. She took my hands in hers. “This is our secret…but Hannah has been mean to some girls at school lately. To girls that she thinks aren’t pretty enough.”

“Pretty enough? For what?” I knew what it was for. Hannah hung out with neighbourhood kids when she started high school. She fit in. People that fit in gotta make sure that other people don’t.

Mama let out a sigh. “I’m not sure, Jessie-bell.” She looked away from me and breathed in tight. She looked back and asked, “Are you happy with how you look?”

“Yes.” I had to lie to her. What was I supposed to say? That I hated how I looked? She’d just go off into a speech. If I was a fat ugly fuck to Billy McHager, I must’ve been to everybody. I’d never had a first kiss. No boyfriend. Not even a handhold. Maybe I’d get a little of that cliché love if I kept up this look. Even without love, Hannah became my friend within a week. I could find more friends at school. Attractiveness makes you more approachable. There was nothing wrong with wanting to change for the better.

So we went to Walmart. Hannah came with us. She bought some more magazines, all filled with boys and beauty tips. Mama got groceries and new slippers for her and Daddy. Mama and Hannah helped me pick out some makeup. I left Walmart that day with my own bag of things.

And for a while, the mirror was my friend. I was up early every morning to put on my makeup. I looked at myself in the mirror before going to school or church. I enjoyed my face with a little extra pizazz.

A girl at school sat with me at lunch one day. A neighbourhood girl. I started talking with her more. By spring, I was hanging out with her group much more often than I did with my old friends. We were still friendly, they just grew apart from me. My new friends reminded me of Hannah.

In spring, everyone was nervous about high school. My old friends and I would chitchat about how big and different it was gonna be. But my new friends were excited to meet cute new boys from the next town over. The spring dance was coming up too. All the girls were pining for a guy to ask them. We spent a lot of our lunch break talking about it.

“If you could dance with anyone, who would you dance with?” The group eyed me, excited and impatient. “And you can’t say you don’t like anybody!”

There wasn’t anyone I had my eye on at school. If someone asked me, I’d do it. “I don’t really care. I’ll dance with anyone.”

A few shared a look. “What about...Billy McHager?”

“What?”

“He’s been crushing on you for months now, Jess! Don’t tell me you haven't seen it!”

I had still been ignoring Billy McHager like I used to. He was rude to everyone.

“Sorry, but not him. I couldn’t.”

“But you should! What if no other boys do? Even if they want to, they probably all think you’ll say yes to Billy!” Somehow, Billy was popular. The girls thought he was Prince Charming.

The spring dance was magnificent for our stinky gym. There were fairy lights strung all around the walls, with little paper leaves the kindergarteners cut out beside them. A teacher had a little DJ booth set up, with a piece of paper for song requests. I spent the first hour dancing and laughing with friends until a slow song came on. The boys and girls split into two sides of the gym. Eventually, brave souls strode over to the other side and asked to dance. As everyone was paired off, I saw Billy McHager making a beeline toward me.

“Hello, Jessie.”

“Billy.”

He held out his hand towards me. “May I have this dance?”

A small smile came across my face. I nodded. “Sure.” His hands felt clammy and strange around my waist. We didn’t talk much. Some of our friends giggled and pointed to us. It was more awkward than romantic. When the song was over, all the girls gathered and gossiped about their slow dances.

A good song came on later that had the whole class jumping up and down in together. It was fun until I got whacked in the face one too many times. I stepped out onto the side and just watched the mass of kids jumping and having fun. I watched Billy grab the arm of one of my old friends and drag her out to the side. He was yelling and pointing at her as she cried. Billy left the gym after a minute. I ran over to her and tried to hug her before she pushed me off.

“Leave me alone, Jess.”

“What happened?”

“I smacked him in the circle.”

“Aw, man, I’m sorry about him.”

“Why would you care about me? You slow danced with Billy! Don’t you remember what he used to say about you? He hasn’t stopped that with us!” Billy had come back into the gym as another slow song came on.

“Just go back to him, Jess.” She ran away from me. Billy came up behind me and grabbed my hand. He turned me around and began to dance with me. He didn’t even ask. I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

Was this even worth it? The new friends and new looks for a boy that didn’t care about me? His hand moved towards me and lifted up my chin. I was forced to look into his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world,” he told me. Was I not smart? Not strong? Was he only dancing with me because of how I looked? His eyes closed. He moved his face towards mine. Billy was going in for a kiss. I thought of his words. How he treated me and my old friends. I took a step back and slapped him hard on the cheek. It made a loud smack, and his face immediately went red with my handprint. The whole gym had stopped to look at us. I ran out of the gym into the bathroom.

I started crying into the sink. I couldn’t look into the mirror. It’s what brought me here. I thought of all the mornings I rolled out of bed to do my makeup and thought, “it’s worth it.” I never once thought of my looks until field day. I didn’t care what my face and body looked like before. I never even noticed. And I never took a second to think about it for myself. I just listened to Billy. And Hannah. And the magazines. And the neighbourhood girls. They all hid “ugly” with words like “improvement” and “approachable.” 

“Why can’t I be beautiful the way I am?” I thought.  The mirror only reinforces what everyone thinks. But this is my mirror. I control what I see.  The mirror wasn’t my friend. It was a reflection of what I really thought of myself. So I stared that mirror down like a bull, and said: “I am beautiful.”  And then I was.