[ WP ] Write about living in a body , but feeling like it is n't your body .

My chest is unbearably flat. Every day it's the first thing I see when I wake up, and it's very disheartening to feel a stab of envy in that pre-wake but post-sleep aphasia. Envy of the other girls, with their perfect boobs and perfect legs and... It just starts to wear on you. 
 
 My panties are wearing out. Need to get new ones. I always shop a few towns over. With a body like mine you want to be absolutely sure no one in your neighborhood is gossiping about which freak bought what type of underwear even though they'll never look good in them and no one will ever love them and... you get the idea. 
 
 These ones are a bit too tight. Might want to go up a size. 
 
 Forgot to take my makeup off last night. I hurry to the bathroom down the hall, hoping no one sees me. I really only experiment with it when I'm alone without anyone to judge me. I'm pretty new to it, but it looks like my skills are improving. Really trying to focus on contouring; let's just say my bone structure leaves a lot to be desired. The other girls have it so easy. Especially Bianca. Perfect, unattainable Bianca. If I could one day look half as good as she does I could die happy. Or at least happier. 
 
 I've never liked showering all that much. Even when I was a kid. During the rest of the day it's easier to forget, but being completely alone for ten or so minutes completely naked with nothing to occupy yourself with really has a way of making your flaws really pop. The unreasonably hairy chest, the bulky arms which I tried everything to prevent, those size 12 feet, the complete bankruptcy in the boob department ( sorry that last one really gets me ). Even when I was young it all just felt so damn *wrong, * so unladylike. I was n't turning into one of the pretty girls I dreamt of becoming. 
 
 I wanted to be one of the models in the makeup ads; delicate, elegant, center of everyone's attention. That never came. Instead I was stuck with this mess. 
 
 I'm depressed most days. Others do n't understand: I've got a good job in a lucrative field, a nice apartment in one of the better parts of town, a family that loves me, why should I of all people be depressed? But honestly, I do n't feel I have any of those. Those belong to the character this lump of meat forces me to play. Every day I down a bunch of different psychomeds to try to make me feel normal but none if them leave me feeling anything but numb. I honestly think I'm near my breaking point. 
 
 Shit I'm late for work. I jump out of the shower, streak back to my room, throw on whatever clothes I can grab the quickest ( does n't matter, they're all hideous anyways, ) and within five minutes I'm on the subway. Time to put the mask back on. 
 
 When I get there it's calm as usual. I slink to my desk and hope no one notices. Someone does. 
 
 `` Hello... hello?'' 
 
 `` Oh, sorry Bianca,'' I half-mumble, trying to act detached. 
 
 `` I noticed this is your eighteenth time being late to work over the past month. Between this and those two weeks you took off without calling in you are putting your employment at risk.'' 
 
 `` Eh, things are complicated. Negative externalities at home, several people close to us died, and it's hard to deL with so much grief sometimes,'' I say lying through my teeth. 
 
 `` Is there anything you want to talk about?'' 
 
 `` Nothing you would understand.'' 
 
 `` Oooo-kay. Well, let me know if you need anything. 
 
 `` I will, trust me.'' 
 
 `` Have a good day Brian.'' 
 
 `` You too.''
