I look in the mirror every single day.  And not one flaw goes unnoticed.  It's not the media, its not "society," it's my personal ravenous deisre for my own created idea of perfection.  I start at the bottom.  My feet, they have weird bunions from long hours in the dance studio.  Faded and scabbed blisters on the sides.  Veins popping out in places they shouldn't.  My calves.  Too muscular, not skinny enough.  My kneecaps were bruised, for a variety of reasons not concerning me.  They look awfully fat in the mirror.  My thighs digust me.  Not even that muscular, just fat.  Fat, fat, fat.  The thought of them makes me furious, angry.  Why do I have no self-control?  My stomach.  Flat, I suppose, but not even toned.  I could definitely afford to cut down on the carbs and do some extra crunches.  My chest.  I cringe- it is totally unproportionate to my body.  I must double up on the amount of push ups and weights effective immediately.  And maybe eliminiate all fats, excluding the occasional serving of almonds.  My arms are horribly flabby, and I get that awful armpit fat whenever I wear tanktops.  My collarbones- not nearly defined enough.  My face: ugh.  Dry lips, and yellow teeth.  No need to ask where those came from.  Puffy, swollen cheeks.  Another result of the constant purging.  My nose isn't the worst, but I always wish it would take on a more button-shape.  My forehead was too big.  I look like a little kid.  My eyes, they're inflammed, a shade of deep, bloody red.  Reflecting the disappointment that I feel inside.