My life constitutes of a dichotic shift as I drift between a state of self-assuredness and self loathing.
When I am assured I am sure that my eyes are a golden brown, my smile whitened and straightened with perfectly painted lips. My eyelashes curl upward as I give you my most intriguing smirk, inducing you into giving me those copies for free and saying "Ay girl" as I cross the street. My jeans hug my hourglass figure like a girl from a video, and the compliments find themselves going my way. My brain swells with knowledge and an almost-eery insight as I predict your admiration and find myself compensating as to not appear ostentatious. I hold myself with the highest regard and refuse to let a man make me feel inferior, to judge me by my exterior because I am superior to that treatment. My wit is quick and you can bet I'll put a Slick Rick in his place if he is even fit to keep up with my pace.
But then again I look at him and see him frowning at my symmetrical, but overly round face, thinking that there might be other ladies in this place with a smaller frame, with a flat stomach and a tame sense of style, not a fedora or Timberland boots or a beanie, not someone who cackles when she laughs and talks even more loudly and obnoxiously than she chuckles. I'm not smooth enough to keep your attention as my obsession with Harry Potter accidentally gets disclosed, as I feel my skin-diseased cheeks bleeding through their concealer and bronzer mask. A law school degree sounds boring and braggy as I grasp at straws, at my only backup source of comfort, as I attempt to woo you with my brain because you clearly aren't into a size ten. You glance out of the sides of your eyes as you buy me a drink, or you tell me you aren't ready for a relationship even though we've been sleeping together for a year; "it's just not you, it's me" is what I finagle as a girl named Hailey posts a picture of you with your arm around her size two waist and top-heavey Double D's. I let down all of my walls and you forget my birthday, and I stay devastated over you long enough for you to forget my name.
I'm two-in-one; I'm confidently lacking in confidence and disapprovingly disapprove of anyone's opinion of me but my own.