I've become this charming little magnet that people are attracted to. Who'll talk to me for hours. I've gotten more phone numbers in a few weeks, unsolicited than maybe ever in the last few years.
It's funny how you think you are so far along. And then, one comment from one person steps on your progress. A stranger.
I've become used to people not asking me about my. . .disfigurement. I am fixing it. Then one girl brings it up and I silently unravel. Enraged at her indirect mocking of my progress, part of me wants to prove her wrong. I am simultaneously attracted and repulsed.
It's funny how suddenly you are consumed by perfection. Almost two thirds is no longer good enough. I see every flaw. I want and I want and I want.