That's Not My Face in the Mirror
Sweetie Belle yawned as she headed for the bathroom, the dreary grogginess of morning still clinging to her.
Another day, another seven hours at school, she thought, Ugh, Mondays… Working out a creak in her neck, she started the next step of her daily routine: combing her teeth and brushing her hair… Or was it the other way around? She didn’t care as long as it worked.
The girl had already eaten breakfast and gotten dressed and every other possible nuance that came with preparing for the usual grind at Canterlot High School, and now she was, as her sister too often put it, “Adding in those last snippets of beauty.” She rolled her eyes just thinking of the words. The last time Sweetie checked, making yourself look civilized was something everyone did on a regular basis.
As usual, Rarity was already in the bathroom applying her snippets with a tube of lipstick. With a muttered greeting, Sweetie squeezed past her sister to get at her toothbrush and, after dragging the toothpaste across the bristles, went to work on her pearly whites. In a minute, she spit the foamy mess out into the sink.
“Ew… Sweetie, do try to lean closer for that. A lady shouldn’t be spitting from two feet above the sink."
“Mmph.”
The toothbrush was already in her mouth again, but her tone was a clear enough answer. As she cleared out her mouth one last time and gave it a rinse, Sweetie dried off her brush, having to step by Rarity again; she caught a glimpse of her sister having swapped her lipstick tube for a handheld mirror and brush. She was used to the sight since she’d seen it every day for years, so she paid it no mind.
Grasping her spray bottle, Sweetie wrapped her pointed finger around the trigger as she brought it into position above her… Huh.
There’s that face looking back, she thought as she stared at her reflection. Her eyes, inevitably, had been drawn to the wall-length mirror since she needed it to comb her hair. Assuming she wanted to have it remotely passable, that is.
Pale skin? Check.
Green eyes? Check.
Pink and purple stripes in curly hair? Check.
Yup, she thought, That’s me. As usual. She had no reason to expect any different, but some part of her always did. Sweetie paused as she stared into the mirror, her hand that grasped the spray bottle lowering to her side. Although she never considered herself to be one of those vain girls who would spend hours admiring themselves, Sweetie knew she would often gaze at her own appearance, whether that be through a mirror or a photo. She didn’t really know why. It was just a feeling that would entrance her.
The girl broke into a frown. No, not this time. No more blank staring. Setting her elbows onto the sink and her head into her hands, she found herself in a glaring contest with her reflection. What’s the deal?
Sweetie started at her eyes, focusing on the sea green orbs peering back at her. It only took a few moments, however, for her to give a small shake of her head. Normal, my eyes are perfectly normal.
She shifted her gaze to her nose. She had her sister’s nose, but that wasn’t a reassurance to her. It was, simply put, small. Never once did it stray into the boundaries of “too wide” or “too pointy” or “too anything.” Nothing.
So she moved to her mouth. Then to her ears. Then to her eyebrows. Then to her hair. Then to her face in its entirety. …Nothing.
Sweetie let out a sigh. Ugh, what am I even looking for? Some magical zit to tell me what’s wrong?
“Are you alright, Sweetie?”
Turning toward her sister, the girl saw that Rarity had halted all progress in the makeup department to peer at her, a flash of concern in her eyes. Somewhat reminiscent of a circus, only one of her eyes had any makeup applied.
“Is something bothering you?”
“…Nothing.”
Flicking her head back toward the mirror, the girl resumed her staring even though she knew there was nothing to be found in it. Normal… Everything’s normal… A thoughtful look crossed her features. Maybe that’s the problem.
Taking a look at the spray bottle still clutched in her hand, she brought it over head and began pushing back on the lever. Once her hair was sufficiently wet, Sweetie grabbed at her brush. Muscle memory nearly brought her into her usual routine, but she stopped herself just short of coming into contact. Instead, she took a moment to think. Just what did she want to do?
Her mind flipped through all the hairstyles she’d seen all her classmates wear. With a shrug, she picked one out at random.
Within moments, her brush was traveling through her hair, straightening and flattening, curling and twirling. She couldn’t help but grin as she watched her hand work to bring the mental image to realty. With each stroke of the brush, her smile widened.
“Sweetie, what are you doing?”
“Doing my hair.”
“I can see that much. I’m asking just what you are doing with it.”
“I’m trying out a new style.”
“Okay… and you’re going to go to school with it like that?”
“Yes.”
Sweetie felt a sudden resistance on her comb, stopping it dead in its tracks. A quick glance at the mirror told her that Rarity was the cause. The girl frowned, already able to hear what her sister was going to say.
“Sweetie, dear? I’m one for experimenting with new styles, but I’m afraid I can’t let you go out looking like… this.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“For starters, that’s a boy’s style.”
Eyes drifting toward the mirror again, Sweetie’s brow furrowed as she took in the sight. Although her hair was naturally curly, she’d done her best to straighten it out in an attempt to make her bangs appear longer and to fall down her face. Her hair had been parted, one side lengthier than the other, and was swept to the side as well as having been spiked up in a few choice spots. If it weren’t for the mass of hair flowing freely off the back of her head, it would’ve been the quintessential “boy” haircut. After staring for a few more seconds, Sweetie shrugged.
“I like it. Scootaloo has a boy’s style after all.”
“I can’t speak for Scootaloo’s parents. As far as you and I know, they’d let her run around in a parka during summer. I, however, do care for your appearance.”
“You’re telling me I have to change it back, aren’t you?”
“Well, if you put it like that…”
“Rarity, it looks fine. I’m keeping it like this.”
“No, Sweetie, you’re not. It looks like it had a run in with a bird’s nest.”
“It’s my hair!”
“Sweetie. As your sister, the answer is no. If this means so much to you, we can discuss it after school. Until then, please adopt a more… appropriate hairstyle for a girl of your class.”
“…Fine.”
Not bothering to mask her irritation, she set to work in undoing her creation. Her hand leading the brush through a far-too-familiar set of motions, she was done within a minute.
She stood back in morbid admiration of her usual hair style, curled in the front and straightened wherever else. For a moment, she stood entranced by her reflection, but she shook herself out of her stupor.
Stomping out of the bathroom, she heaved an annoyed sigh.
That’s not my face, she thought, I would’ve recognized it if it were.
