Sometimes as I step out of the steaming shower, I see myself in the mirror and cant help but question the reflection. The way my body curves oddly trying to smooth out the bones underneath, how the small red lines appear from thin air, how broad my solders appear, spread out like a mountain range instead of a blooming pasture.

Then, I remember the Greek Statues with their pear-shaped bodies, and my towel drapes across my shoulder to become my sash. The soapy water beads are my olive crown as I stand poised.

But my face isn't up to par anyway, and this isn't the Greek period.
I think my sculptor forgot that, or maybe he wasn't that good with carving faces.