“You’re here, again. I thought you were okay,” Selma thought.

She stood in front of the large rectangle mirror that hang near the bedroom door. The mirror was old. It was among the first few possessions she had bought as an independent adult. Its black wooden frame was a bit chipped but nonetheless made it beautiful. Selma had a love-hate relationship with this mirror. She had moved houses several times and thought that it would break. In a way she hoped it would so that she could buy a new one. But no, it chose to stand against the norm of fragility.

Many a times she talked, cried, laughed, and poured her heart out to it. She considered it her immortal friend, probably. It had seen her evolve from being an immature young adult to a woman. She never understood how every time she saw herself in it she felt different, yet the mirror never changed.

Right, she stood in front of it. This time a mother. She could see her body had changed. Selma was wearing a nursing bra and baggy shorts. She pulled her shorts lower and revealed the overhanging belly that was full of stretch marks. She squeezed the flabby belly and looked at it.

Selma then stretched both her arms to the side and the floppy fatty skin emerged like bat wings. She slowly turned to the side. Her already small buttocks were disappearing inwardly and well, the fat on her back formed a hump making her identical to Quasimodo. Selma blankly stared at her image.

“It appears the Age of tears has arrived my friend,” the mirror spoke sarcastically.

A year ago she stood in front of the same mirror proud of her well-toned body. She had trained hard to lose some weight and gain the coveted hour glass figure. Yet here she was, back where she started. Selma wanted her old body back.

“If only I could wish for it,” she imagined pointing her index finger like a wand towards her reflection.

“Where is Cinderella’s fairy godmother when we need her?” The mirror mocked her.

“Here she is,” Selma firmly responded as she wore the beautifully patterned breastfeeding dera.

For the first time Selma closely looked at the mirror. She saw a thin crack in the middle of it.

“I need a new mirror,” she spoke aloud walking away from it.