It wasn't enough. It was never enough. You were standing in front of a mirror and vanity in your room. Somehow, no matter how much you straightened out the pleats in the dress or adjusted the neckline, you felt inadequate. As if something could always be fixed about yourself. Maybe your thighs were a little bit bigger than you wanted them to be. Your cheeks were a little chubbier than they were compared to a few weeks ago. Did you eat more than necessary? Why did you have to indulge in all of these things when you knew that they were detrimental to your body? You felt so ugly… so unpretty… so unworthy of him. Today was the night of the party that you have worked so hard to plan for the past week and a half. Typing up e-mails, communicating with potential guests, speaking with the other members of the RFA regarding the logistics… it was stressful. So you ate that extra piece of chocolate, snacked on some chips here and there. You felt awful. You were already so insecure about your weight… some pudge on the stomach, some flab on the arm… so ugly, so ugly. So much was riding on the success of the party - your continued employment with the RFA, being able to see him. If the party guests don't show up, if everything isn't absolutely perfect, you had no idea what you were going to do. The stress suddenly begins to build up in your chest, overwhelming your entire body. Head throbbing, heart pounding, shaking, losing control, racing thoughts. There was always something wrong. You were always too ugly, too incapable, too undeserving of the love and appreciate of others.
You crumpled onto the floor, face buried into your hands, shoulders shaking. You hated when you felt this way. So lost, defeated, and that gripping ache in the back of your mind basically urging you that you will never ever feel happy again. It was the most debilitating feeling in the world… everything felt numb, like nothing ever mattered in the first place. So it was all the more frustrating when you tried to figure out why you worried so much. You heard the door open very quickly, and gently close. Frozen. Shit shit shit.
"Chagiya… what's the matter?" you heard the soft, calming voice coo.
"Nothing, just give me a minutes," you respond, trying to conceal your tears by shielding your face with your hair. "I just fell, that's all."
"Oh, well let me help you up," Zen immediately came to your rescue, rushing to your side.
"Oh um… thank you," you nod, cheeks flushing cherry red as he knelt to the floor, took your hand, and supported your back as you straightened your knees. Whenever you held his hand, it felt as if nothing could ever go wrong. It felt so sturdy, so supportive, like even if you were about to fall over, he would come to save the day.
You met eye to eye when you fully stood up, his scarlet irises boring into your probably equally reddened, puffy ones.
"Sweetie…" his usually playful expression gradually contorted to great concern. "What's wrong? Why were you crying?"
"I-I was just a little frustrated because I fell over, that's all," you reply, turning away from his face out of pure embarrassment and fixing your hair in the mirror, which was a little bit tousled compared to a few minutes ago. "Just tired from all the party-planning, that's all…"
"Well you shouldn't overwork yourself," Zen commented, still staying close beside you out of protection. "I can tell that you have been stressing lately."
"Yeah, but there's not really much that I can do…" you say, combing out a few more strands of hair and turning your face from side to side to make sure that everything looked symmetrical. "I just have to get through this day and hope for the best."
"I'm sure everything will work out," Zen smiled, surprising you by placing his hands over your shoulders.
"U-um…" you began to blush. You were still incredibly shy around him, despite the fact that he has officially asked to be your boyfriend. He was just the epitome of perfection for you… kind-hearted, hard-working, beautiful, and so very considerate. You sometimes feel as if you don't deserve what he gives you when there are so many other girls out there who love him… maybe even more so than you.
"Hehe… why are you so fidgety whenever I'm in the room?" Zen laughed, leaning forward and resting his chin on your shoulder. "Do I have that strong of an effect over you?"
"Don't be weird," you respond curtly, opening the bottle of foundation that sat next to your mirror, dabbling a small drop onto your forefinger. "It's just… sometimes you are a little bit touchy-feely."
"And you don't like that?" he asked playfully. "I don't have to ever touch you ever again in this entire relationship if you don't want me to."
"No… it's not that," you sigh, spreading some of the cream over your under eyes. "It's just we just started dating and everything…"
"We are official," he corrects sweetly.
"Yes…" you nod, screwing the cap of the foundation bottle back on and returning it to its original location. "So I'm just getting used to this whole um… relationship thingy."
"Of course," he said. He always understood the situation, even if you had some difficulty expressing a truckload of complicated feelings. "I don't have to do these things so soon if you don't want me to. We can ease into it. Whatever you are comfortable with."
"N-no, I like it," you protest.
Identical smirks plaster both faces.
"It's just that…" you trail off, opening a drawer of the vanity and shuffling around to find that shimmery eyeshadow you only wore during special occasions. "I sometimes feel like I don't deserve it.."
"What do you mean?" Zen inquired, the air suddenly becoming more tense than it was moments before.
You don't reply for a second, focusing heavily on applying the eyeshadow over your lid while looking into the mirror, trying to make both sides equal.
"I just sometimes feel unworthy of you I guess…" you whisper, capping the shimmery powder closed and sifting through your drawer for its smoky counterpart.
Zen chuckled, throwing his head back. You can feel the rhythm of his laughter pulsate throughout the room.
"It's not funny!" you assert, smoothing some of the smoky powder over your eyelid. "I'm being serious right now."
"Why in the world would someone as amazing as you feel unworthy of me?" Zen giggled, wrapping his arms over your waist. You felt so safe and protected whenever he did this.
"I guess because…," you mulled over the question with thought. "You are this famous celebrity with a fan following and I'm just a normal person."
"I don't think that you are just a normal person," Zen smiled as you placed the smoky
eyeshadow back into the drawer.
"I do," you shrugged, now opening your eyeliner and working diligently over your lid. You then comb over your eyelashes with your mascara, blinking a couple of times to make sure the brush went through all the way.
"Well you're wrong," he replied simply, his finger now twisting into a lock of your hair.
You giggle. "That's very nice of you to think so," you say. "But I'm just… ordinary. I don't have any special talent going for me like you do. I just go to school, go to work. Life goes on the way it does for me in this normal routine. Every single day is different for you. And so many people love you. I can't even imagine what it must feel like to have all these girls out there support me no matter what I do." You begin to line your lips.
"You honestly don't have to," Zen responded. "You get used to it after a while. Of course
I appreciate every single one of them… not as much as you, though."
You blush, trying to fill in your lips with the lipstick and glossing it over for shine. You look at yourself in the mirror one more time.
"Why do you do all of this?" Zen asked curiously, picking up the eyeliner you tossed to
the side of your vanity.
"Do what?" you ask, filling in your cheeks with some blush.
"Put on all this… makeup?" Zen inquired. "You don't need any of it, you know that,
right?"
"U-um…" you stutter. Makeup is always a sensitive issue for you. You didn't really like the way your face looked naturally unless you put on a dabble of blush and mascara here and there. "I-I don't really know. I don't have to wear as much if you don't want me to."
"No, no, I don't want to tell you what to do," Zen replied. "I just want to let you know that I think you are very pretty…" He plants a surprise kiss on your neck, which sends a shiver down your spine. "In fact, I think that you are so beautiful that you don't have to put on any makeup at all. I actually like the way you look without it better."
"I don't," you pout, throwing the lip gloss and lipstick back into the drawer. "I can't stand to look at myself without makeup. I don't really like to look at myself a lot in the mirror sometimes… I just don't love the way I look like you do, Zen."
"Everyone has insecurities, baby…" he comforted. "Even I do at times."
"I know… but, I just sometimes feel unworthy of you?"
"Why would you ever feel that way?" his tone suddenly became grave.
You looked at yourself once more in the mirror. Too fat. Too ugly. Not pretty enough.
"I don't… I don't really know," your lips began to quiver as you moved from the vanity to the bed, burying your freshly made up face in your hands. "Sometimes I just don't feel enough for you. So many people love you, and you're so beautiful… why did you pick me of all people?"
"Sweetie, you're going to ruin your makeup," he laughed, joining you on the bed, cuddling with you by resting his hands over your hips. "Stop saying these things… you know they aren't true."
"How are you so sure?" you ask, sniffling into the pillow.
"Because no matter how inadequate you feel on the inside…" he starts, wiping a tear off your cheek with a finger. "You are more than enough to me. In fact, you are incredible. Putting together all that work… contacting all those party guests by the deadline with such short notice. And being a positive influence to everyone in RFA. I admire you for that. So much."
"Th-thank you…" your voice wavers, as you smooth the pleat of your dress one more time.
"I think that you are beautiful…" Zen continues, kissing you on the cheek, down your arm, onto your hand. "And kind… and sweet… and you should never feel like you don't deserve me, okay?"
You nod wordlessly, as Zen gets up to get ready for the party on his own. "Hehe… my my my… jagiya… you've ruined your makeup."
"I guess I won't need it anymore," you smile, wiping a few more tears of your face.
"Me neither," he returns the gesture, closing the door shut and leaving you alone in your room.
Gradually, you stand up from the bed and approach the vanity, removing a few makeup wipes from its container and stripping your face of all the creams, powders, and glosses you saturated it with earlier on. You tilt your head to side, observing yourself like you usually do in the mirror.
But this time, you finally felt pretty enough.