Why does it look at me with contempt?

As if I was a ghastly reflection,

with nothing to do but stand there,
while she worked to do everything.

As I got thinner and in dire need of help.

She stopped taking meals,
I said she could help herself.

A restraint she put beyond me,
that what she wanted,

an ideal body.

That made everyone turn their head.

As if dogs are being thrown meat,
lunge to see who is first to eat.

She wanted her body to be just right.

Not too fat,
but not too thin.
What is her definition of slim?

Was it to the point where a fish had gills
but a human had bones sticking out
her flesh distorted to the bones

she could bend her back
the bones would tear her right out

as they struggled to feel fed knowing the lack of vitamins had led.

She stood there staring,
checking her waistline.

Her thighs were healthy.
Others say too skinny,
and she says fat,

what was she, if any?

Bamboozled he mind was, 

fuzzed with thoughts of where to improve

what to lose,
where to gain.

I stood there thinking what was she to be satisfied when I'm her reflection,
can she loves me otherwise?

That abhorrent face,
always seemingly repulsed by her reflection

yet told others to love themselves,
was it affection?

A connection I couldn't make
all sense was out

when she stared into my face it wasn't disgust that projected
but immense anguish

embedded never satisfied
what she does
feeling no projects wishing there was.

I love her beauty,
the way she tried and aspired
when most others were playing

swaying,
she tried her best not to be a pest.

Her looks,she thought,made her.

I know her brain has no care,
yet her heart seeps deeply.