Disclaimer: I own neither Twilight, nor it's respective characters.

Esme didn't spend much time in front of mirrors – really, no one spent that much time in front of mirrors, at least, if your point of comparison was Rosalie Hale. But, early every morning as she dressed, Esme stood for a moment and took a breath. It was nice to look pretty; there was something wonderful about being able to dress your family well, about being able to look good for your husband. Of course, Esme knew that she would look good in a paper sack, that curse of beauty to appeal to her prey.

The thought had been coming on for a few days now, and this time it was nearly impossible to stop it. It was silly and petty, and as she'd told her stubborn son on the verge of a Bella's-soul related funk just a few hours earlier, "You can't go back in time and change anything – none of us can. What's done is done, and there's no use in fretting over it." It was a mantra Esme lived every day by – when you had five rambunctious "children," there truly was no use crying over spilt milk (or blood, potted plants, expensive televisions…)

Still, compared to Rosalie – arguably the most beautiful girl in the world – and tiny Alice – tiny, they'd discovered, due to malnourishment at the end of her time in that awful place – Esme felt fat. Not overweight, of course, and she still had the vampire-accrued muscles, despite some softer edges… but was it not a woman's prerogative to worry about how she looked?

She knew she wasn't really fat; she just wasn't skinny either. She'd taken to hurling herself off a cliff too soon after giving birth to have regained normal proportions. But, she was being silly. A young woman on the lamb, making ends meet was tough; she didn't gain all that much weight during her pregnancy. And, she was a naturally thin girl all growing up, running around the way she did – Esme chuckled at one of her few human memories; a tree-climbing incident that let her to Carlisle Cullen. Really, it was nice to have a few pretty curves – it was just a fleeting thought anyway, this thin-business…

A gentle hand appeared on her arm, and a whisper in her ear.

"Beautiful." But his tone said more; it said I love you.

She turned to her smiling husband, his smile filled with all the years they'd spent together, all the years they'd loved one another. Carlisle looked at her like she was the only woman in the world, like she was perfection itself. She wouldn't trade that for anything.

Screw skinny.