Measuring Up by Nyrae Dawn

for a second and then says, “And I am…looking, I mean. You said look at you and I just want to tell you, I am.”
    Then he’s gone and I’m left more out of breath than any treadmill or round of boxing could ever leave me.
    ***
    I’m standing in front of my mirror in a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. It’s ridiculous, I know. I see myself every day, but I can’t help but study every rounded curve of my body. No inch goes unnoticed. My shiny black hair, the freckles on my nose. My eyes, like I said, I’ve always liked those. My mouth isn’t bad either, I don’t think. Plump lips are in right? I mean, ever since Angelina Jolie at least.
    There’s a little mole by my collar bone. A dimple on the right side of my mouth when I smile big. I frown. It’s much smaller that way.
    He said he’s looking. Tegan’s looking at me and I’m trying to figure out what he sees. I know what I see. There’s little dimple in my thigh, resting under my rear. My arms are too big. Is that what he sees? If so, why is he looking?
    Turning to the side, I suck in my stomach. My boobs aren’t bad. Actually, I’m pretty proud of them. They’re nice and round. Much bigger than Em’s, but not too big, if you ask me. She always says she wishes hers were more like mine. Are they what he sees?
    Or is that not what he meant at all? That he’s looking deeper than what he sees on the outside? My willingness to help him with his brother seems big to him. Like it actually meant something. Like it tells him something about me. Maybe I’m studying myself in the mirror for nothing and it’s really the helpful girl who pulled a chair from a van that he’s talking about.
    I want both to be true. I like being seen for the inside, but for once, I’d love for someone to look at me too. To think I’m beautiful, not in the you’d-have-a-pretty-face-but way that I’m used to.
    I think of Em again, the need to call her, to tell her surging inside me. She’s my best friend and she’ll support this. She’ll support me, right? And she’ll always be honest. I need to know exactly what she thinks when she looks at me.
    Turning for my cell, I jump when I see a figure standing in my doorway. “Mom. You scared the bejesus out of me.”
    Her arms are crossed in another suit. It’s almost bedtime and she hasn’t changed yet. “What were you doing?”
    My tongue itches to tell her. To really ask her what she thinks about me, but I’m scared of the answer. “Nothing.” I shrug.
    I turn back to the mirror and she comes up and steps behind me. “I’ve been thinking…”
    “What?”
    She fingers my hair. “How would you like a few highlights? It might be fun to do something different, don’t you think?”
    Actually, I kind of like my hair. I didn’t realize it until this second. “Maybe…”
    “We can make a day of it. Have a spa day. Manicures, pedicures. There’s a new shop in town I’ve thought about making an appointment at. They specialize in clothes that help…they’re slimming, accentuating your assets.”
    When I look in the mirror now, I don’t see the boobs I’d been admiring moments ago. My eyes don’t look as blue and now my lips just feel fat, not like kissable rosebuds. I’m thinking about the dimple in my thigh. The stomach that’s anything but flat. I even forget the girl who helped Tegan because it was the right thing to do.
    “Sure.”
    But really I wonder why Tegan bothers looking.

 
    Chapter Six
    DOUBLE THE REJECTION
    I’m wearing a pair of gray sweats and a black t-shirt when I pull up to Let’s Get Physical at ten minutes to six. In the passenger seat is my backpack with a change of clothes, just a simple pair of capris, one of those shirts with the tie underneath my boobs and sandals. Not sure why I brought them, but figured the last thing I would want is to be in need of something other than sweats and not have it on-hand.
    I turn off my car and fiddle with my keys while waiting for Tegan to get