She stares at her reflection and wonders, Will it ever be? Blonde hair, blue eyes, long legs, full lips? Her dreams are drawn by the loins of other men, and yet she dreams them all the same. She doesn't yet know that her pencil hips and her tabletop chest will grow on their own, that her body will take its predetermined shape, that someday someone will love her--truly love her--not for looking like the cover of a magazine, but for being three-dimensional, curvy, real. These truths are all still hidden from her young and eager eyes. So she bats her lashes and blows kisses at the mirror, practicing for the nonexistent fool's fantasy that she'll gladly never lead.
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