Everything is Perfect Forever

This morning, I awoke the way I normally do - barely. Having stumbled about blindly and yawned a lot, I got to the point in my morning routine when I needed to get dressed. Part-way through doing so I had one of the single worst experiences of my life.

I glanced up at the mirror, and discovered that one boob was bigger than the other.

Overnight I had become a freak. I had always believed that all the stuff about everyone having one boob slightly larger was urban myth and designed to terrify children - as far as I was concerned, anyone who was wonky was also a freak, and should be hidden inside under layers of badly fitting clothing. Now I too was a freak.

Tears were close, I went through the seven stages of grieving. Denial came first, I turned on a better light and altered the angle of the mirror, in the vain hope that my eyes were simply playing tricks on me. It semed they were not.

Guilt came next - if only I had not mocked others for being hideously malformed, perhaps this would not have happened to me. My cruel jokes were finally being played back to me with alarmingly harsh irony, which I did not appreciate.

I quickly ran through the rest, promising to be a better person if only they'd even up. Wondering how this could have happened, trying to rationalize the situation. Disgusted by the possibility of having to buy padded bras and take out half the padding.

I refused to move onto acceptance. Desperate, I jiggled once more in front of the mirror, in the hope that I could possibly "bounce" into shape.

A balled up sock fell out of my bra.

Everything is perfect forever.