She stood under the harsh bathroom light wondering about the damage. This was going to be harder to explain than demanding to talk to the slow delivery driver’s manager, or throwing out the barely burnt cookies.
Nothing was ever good enough. She was never good enough. Why couldn’t anyone else see that? Even an expensive haircut couldn’t hide her flaws and imperfections.
“I’ll just trim this bit the hairdresser missed.”
One hour later and she was probably mostly bald at this point. It was hard to tell in the smashed mirror. She started washing the blood and hair down the drain.