What Does Narcissism Have To Do With Me?
When she was born, Bethany's parents argued over which side of the family she took after, each thinking she was theirs and theirs alone. Her mother felt that, as the one who'd been through pregnancy and a rather difficult labour, she'd earned the right to have a daughter who was her image, while her father felt that, as the one who housed and clothed them all, the very least he could expect was a child who looked like him. Her grandmother, upon hearing how heated the debate could become, gave the baby a beautiful, ornate, antique mirror and declared that the child could make up her own mind when she was old enough, which would settle the argument once and for all.
Bethany hated the thought that she looked like either of them. She wanted to be herself and whenever someone commented that she had her father's eyes or her mother's nose, she'd run to the mirror and examine the offending feature with intense scrutiny until she'd satisfied herself that it couldn't possibly be true, that her eyes were a deeper shade of blue than his, her nose more delicate and fine than her mother's. Having determined that she was hers and hers alone, she'd turn to the rest of her face and admire the peaches and cream complexion she was blessed with or the hair that was as smooth as silk and the most delicious shade of honey blonde.
As she grew older, the subject of the hours she spent in front of a mirror became a running joke in the family until it wasn't quite as funny any more. Bethany would regularly be late for school because she'd spent so long preening herself and it was not unknown for her to miss out on trips because she'd taken too long with her own reflection. Bethany didn't care - what could be more fulfilling than making sure she looked her very best? Besides, there was no one else she'd rather spend time with, so who cared if she didn't go to that party? No one there could possibly be as interesting as she was.
Her parents had always been very indulgent of their little princess, but even they were becoming concerned at how far Bethany was falling behind at school in favour of gazing at herself. They threatened to take the mirror away, but since they'd never followed through on any threat of punishment in her life, Bethany treated their threats with the contempt they deserved and continued to pose for her own entertainment.
One day, as her mother was passing her room, she heard a conversation. Delighted that her daughter had finally brought a little friend home, she crept up to the door, pushing it open quietly so that she could see who was visiting without disturbing their games. She felt fear cut straight through her when she saw that her daughter was alone, talking to her reflection which was talking back. She didn't stop to think, grabbing the mirror and smashing it against the wall. Bethany screamed and tried to gather up the pieces, putting them back in the frame, but of course, it was beyond repair.
It was the last sound she would ever make. Devastated by what she had done, her mother replaced the glass, but, of course, it was never the same and in any case, Bethany couldn't bear to look at it, turning it to face the wall. It was as if a little piece of herself had died with the broken glass, taking her voice with it. No amount of begging or pleading by her parents could coax her to talk again. The mirror image, brought to life by the love Bethany had poured into it, was gone, never to return and she wished with all her heart that she'd been able to go with it. After all, she was the only girl that Bethany would or could ever love.
Bethany hated the thought that she looked like either of them. She wanted to be herself and whenever someone commented that she had her father's eyes or her mother's nose, she'd run to the mirror and examine the offending feature with intense scrutiny until she'd satisfied herself that it couldn't possibly be true, that her eyes were a deeper shade of blue than his, her nose more delicate and fine than her mother's. Having determined that she was hers and hers alone, she'd turn to the rest of her face and admire the peaches and cream complexion she was blessed with or the hair that was as smooth as silk and the most delicious shade of honey blonde.
As she grew older, the subject of the hours she spent in front of a mirror became a running joke in the family until it wasn't quite as funny any more. Bethany would regularly be late for school because she'd spent so long preening herself and it was not unknown for her to miss out on trips because she'd taken too long with her own reflection. Bethany didn't care - what could be more fulfilling than making sure she looked her very best? Besides, there was no one else she'd rather spend time with, so who cared if she didn't go to that party? No one there could possibly be as interesting as she was.
Her parents had always been very indulgent of their little princess, but even they were becoming concerned at how far Bethany was falling behind at school in favour of gazing at herself. They threatened to take the mirror away, but since they'd never followed through on any threat of punishment in her life, Bethany treated their threats with the contempt they deserved and continued to pose for her own entertainment.
One day, as her mother was passing her room, she heard a conversation. Delighted that her daughter had finally brought a little friend home, she crept up to the door, pushing it open quietly so that she could see who was visiting without disturbing their games. She felt fear cut straight through her when she saw that her daughter was alone, talking to her reflection which was talking back. She didn't stop to think, grabbing the mirror and smashing it against the wall. Bethany screamed and tried to gather up the pieces, putting them back in the frame, but of course, it was beyond repair.
It was the last sound she would ever make. Devastated by what she had done, her mother replaced the glass, but, of course, it was never the same and in any case, Bethany couldn't bear to look at it, turning it to face the wall. It was as if a little piece of herself had died with the broken glass, taking her voice with it. No amount of begging or pleading by her parents could coax her to talk again. The mirror image, brought to life by the love Bethany had poured into it, was gone, never to return and she wished with all her heart that she'd been able to go with it. After all, she was the only girl that Bethany would or could ever love.