Tracey turned over and turned her alarm clock off. She glared at the eight and two zeros that seemed to mock her. Eventually, as the anger subsided, she turned her attention around her room. Tracey loved her room, she hated her parent's house but she loved her room. It wasn't very large, but it suited her needs. It housed her brass double bed, which had her favorite sheets and comforter on it. A white spread with white and red roses scattered about in a nice orderly fashion. Although she used to hate the lavender ‘70s shag carpeting, she had now grown quite fond of how it felt against her bare feet when she walked on it. She had her choir & band awards on a cherry wood stained shelf that matched the off white walls quite well, she thought anyways.
Although most of the girls in her senior class worried quite a bit about fashion, Tracey didn't really care much for that, her worries were about her music. Tracey loved the guitar. Her father began teaching her as soon as she was old enough to hold one. She looked over at her nightstand and looked at his picture. She smiled as her eyes held back tears. It had been two years since the accident.
"Fuck it, I'm not having one of these days." Tracey said as she pulled the covers back and stepped onto the purple shag. She rubbed her feet a bit on the carpet.
"He he," she giggled, "Always feels good to wake up to a shag!" She said, thinking she was clever. Tracey stretched as she walked over to her full-length mirror. She looked at her naked body in the mirror, as she did every morning for the last year. She always felt she wasn't as pretty as some of the other girls in school. To help her self-image her friend, Autumn, suggested she stand naked in front of a mirror to help her become more comfortable with herself.
Her dyed dark red hair covered her shoulders, which she liked since it hid some of the freckles that sporadically appeared all over her body. She was glad though they were freckles and not moles . She gave a toothy grin, and opened her mouth, looking at her near perfect teeth.
"Thank God for braces." She said to herself.
Tracey looked her body over. She was much thinner than the other girls, which prompted them to make anorexia jokes. She knew it was out of jealously but for some reason it still got to her. Her breasts, however, were much larger than the other girls. Leaving her with what she thought, was an awkward and disproportionate body. However she noticed the stares from both the girls and boys. She knew she was fortunate, for now anyway.
Her nipples her pink and about the size of half-dollars. She knew they were larger in size than most women's. A least that was the idea she received in the locker room.
"Great, in thirty years when my back starts going out, I can look forward to booby reduction surgery." Tracey said angrily with a laugh.
She looked at her legs. They were slender and toned, which she couldn't understand, since she hardly worked out. Her mother was the same way though, good genetics is what she finally accepted as the answer. She liked that she had longer legs and a shorter upper body. Her height was always a problem though, at almost six feet she felt like she dwarfed most of the boys. This prompted her to slouch more when she stood.
She looked at her pussy. She always hated the word vagina. Seemed too sterile and clinical to her. She didn't believe in shaving everything. It reminded her of a small child and always thought that guys that liked bald pussies also secretly liked underage girls. She waxed her bikini line and trimmed the pubic hair down with scissors. She didn't do much more beyond that.
"Why should I have to tidy myself, when boys don't?" She thought out loud.
She then brought her head up and stared into her hazel eyes. She knew deep down she wasn't anywhere close to being ugly, but she knew she wasn't one of the, "beautiful people" either.
She turned around to look at the clock, eight thirteen it read.
"What the fuck?!" She said confused, she turned back to the mirror.
She turned her head, her refection matched.
"But I could've..." She pondered.
Then her reflection dropped its head a bit and smiled in a mischievous and deviant manner. "Holy shit." Tracey managed to whisper. Panic and fear had gripped and taken hold of her body.