It was then, standing naked barely covered by the thin wet towel wrapped around my waist that I realized what I thought I had become. The steam trickled along the mirror, engulfing the sharp cornered edges of the cabinet. Little drops ran down along my shoulders, down my neck soaking the tip of the towel dangling below my chest. I peered in the foggy mirror as if the blurred image would somehow prevent the hatred already beginning to form inside my heart. I looked down, imagining that when I looked up I would see something I could face now. That when I looked up I would be transformed and suddenly be how I wanted to look and feel. The steam began to fade and the face in the mirror became clearer in the passing minutes. I still hated what I saw, I could feel and notice every little flaw and imperfection, trapped under my disgusted gaze. I turned away with a deep disappointed sigh. Will I ever be able to see anything but a monster in the reflected image on the wall? My saddened heart remained hopeless.