That's not me, was the first thought that went through my brain. I didn't recognize the girl at all in the mirror. She had long dark hair and thin eyebrows, a thin bobbed nose, a thin face and panicked, darkly fringed, blue eyes. She had wobbly breasts as well, I could feel them (!), and a slim figure, the hair that should have covered the girl in the mirror's vagina shaved, as Carla had warned me, so that a scar, there, was a little redder than the rest of my skin.
I put my hand down to touch it as I looked at myself, the girl that I was, a girl that I didn't recognize at all. But she was me. She eased her fingers over the scar, as I noticed again how long my fingernails were. Carla had said they would be cut today. I couldn't wait as I felt I would scratch myself if I felt myself properly.