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She had been happy to be able to spend some time with him, to just be with him. But he had seemed distracted. She sat across from him and watched as he stared, not at her but at the other women around them. She watched as his eyes drank them in, her heart sinking at each glance he paid them. He caught her watching him and shrugged it off jokingly. He assured her it didn’t mean anything and she shouldn’t read to much into it. But how could she not?
Now alone she looked at her face long and hard. She knew she wasn’t the most beautiful or the prettiest woman. She paled in comparison to so many that had caught his eye tonight. She cupped her full breasts, they were no longer as perky or firm. She slid her hands to her waist it wasn’t as small as it used to be. She idly ran her fingers over her not so flat stomach, touching the noticeable indentions of stretch marks scattered across her skin. She put her hands down beside her hips. She looked at her thighs though not quite firm but showed signs of cellulite, no thigh gap to be seen. She turned slightly, her butt not quite the full, firm heart shape that apparently caught his attention. She had thought she had a rather nice hourglass shape albeit a little fuller than what society deemed beautiful. She had worked hard to get where she was.
The tears begin to fall as she remembered the way he looked at those other women. All she had wanted was to be everything he wanted, for those looks to be reserved just for her. She had expressed her insecurities to him and he had reassured her that there was nothing to worry about but yet tonight he had made her feel every single one of them. He had made her feel less than adequate.
She looked at her tear stained face and once again scolded herself. It didn’t mean anything, don’t read too much into it. But it still hurt and she wondered, why wasn’t she - enough?
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