Look at Me

By Nicole Cater

Look at me. 
What do you see? 
Do you see the blue eyes? 
Do you notice the short, pink hair?
Look closer. 
Did you notice the four earrings in the left ear where only two reside in the right? 
Backing away from my face, surely you can’t miss that I’m a woman.  Even if I wanted to bind my breasts, I think the only benefit would be a constant state of dizziness from lack of oxygen. 
Look at my stomach, smaller then some, larger than others, prone to shape shift depending on medication. 
Look at my hips.  Wide-set, child-bearing hips that will never issue forth life. 
And my legs, well proportioned.  My shapely calves lead to slim ankles.  All this supported by ridiculous elfin feet.  It’s hard to look cool in footwear that has Barbie or Hello Kitty plastered all over it.
But look at me. 
Look closer. 
Do you see the slight limp on a good day.  It’s impossible to miss on a bad day. 
Look at me while I sit at any event.  Have you ever seen someone fidget so much?   Do you say to yourself “Why doesn’t she stop fidgeting?” 
Look at me. 
Do you see me walking in front of you?  Do you feel satisfied with yourself because you didn’t pass me when I offered to let you?  Do you regret that decision now that you realize I can’t move any faster than I already was? 
Look at me.
Sitting on the floor of a Big Box Store because I just can’t move anymore.  I’ve run out of stamina.  I’m even too tired for your dirty looks.
Look at me. 
Do you see a happy-go-lucky woman enjoying her life? 
Look closer. 
Because that might not be true. 

I am filled with agony, depression, anxiety.  But these attributes are forbidden in this world.  So I take a pill.  And if it doesn’t work, I take another pill.  And then I put on my mask. 
So look closely. 
Do you see what I see? 
Do you see the limp, the exhaustion, the constant movement that denotes a comfortable position is not to be found?
Look at me. 
Look closely. 
Closer. 

Do you see the mask? 

No? 

Then I’ve done my job well.