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From: Lazlo Zalezac <lzalezac@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 17 Jan 2004 22:42:46 -0800 (PST)
Subject: {ASSM} Mirari Imperfectus (rom)
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Date: Sun, 18 Jan 2004 18:10:09 -0500
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All,
This is a little story for your amusement while I work
on my next JC story.
Lazlo Zalezac
__________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Hotjobs: Enter the "Signing Bonus" Sweepstakes
http://hotjobs.sweepstakes.yahoo.com/signingbonus
<1st attachment, "ImperfectMirror.txt" begin>
Mirari Imperfectus
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004
I look at the reflection in the mirror knowing that it is a reflection
of myself, yet I could not help but wonder what the eyes of that
stranger staring back must think of me. Does my reflection see the
same imperfections in me that I see in her? The list of
imperfections is too long to mention, but I know each and every
one of them. The mirror is too perfect, reflecting each and every
detail without distortion. Would not a less perfect mirror reflect my
image with sufficient distortion that my imperfections would
disappear? That would solve the problem of what I see in the
reflection, but the reflection would still see the real me. I needed a
better mirror, one that presents an image of me as I appear to
others so that I will know the truth of my appearance.
The used book store had that cozy and warm atmosphere that I so
loved. The smell of old paper and leather bindings tickled my nose.
I could never enter a bookstore without a sense of awe at the
knowledge and wisdom that was contained within it. This was an
old store that had been here for more than a century. It held
thousands of books, some of which may have been present the day
the store was opened. On entering, I knew that amidst the stacks of
books was one book that I would find, fall in love with, and take
home with me.
Hours passed as I looked through stacks of books before I found
the one that captured my attention, an old handwritten diary dated
a hundred years ago as the 1800's turned to the 1900's. Within the
pages, was contained the life of a young woman as she recorded
events minor and major, hopes and dreams, fears and worries, and
her growth from young woman to a woman. Nowhere was her
name given, the cover page long lost and references to herself
always used the word, 'I.'
I took the dairy home to read it at leisure, to savor the real
experiences of a woman who I would never know except through
the words that she used to describe her life. On going to bed each
night, I read the entry for a single day, savoring each word
describing the events as experienced by her. There were times
when it was tough limiting myself to one day. Some entries told of
hopes for some event to follow the next day and I would want to
discover how it turned out for her. Throughout the day I would
wonder what was going to happen next to this mystery woman.
I emphasized with the young woman in terms of how she described
herself. She thought her feet were too large, her knees too bony,
wrists thick, and nose overly large. My heart went out to her as she
was introduced to possible suitors only to have her hopes crushed
by a lack of interest on one side or the other. She blamed her ugly
features for driving away the potential suitors. I knew only too well
those feelings, as I blamed my imperfections for keeping men from
being interested in me.
My life paralleled hers in so many ways. An invitation to a party
would raise hopes that I would meet a man who would love me for
myself. One who could see the inner me and not this imperfect
shell that was my presentation to the world. The day of the party
would be spent dressing in my finest clothes, hoping to hide my
imperfections. Then there would be the party, when the man
would talk of nothing about himself paying no attention to me or
my needs. Afterwards, there would be the sad recriminations that I
would never find a man and a general depression would settle over
my spirit.
For months I rode a roller coaster of emotions as my life and her
life ebbed and flowed as chance meetings with men raised hopes
and then crushed them. The last months had been particularly
rough as I had gained four pounds and now felt like a whale. What
man in his right mind would fall for a woman that was obese?
None, that was the lesson I was learning. It was reinforced with the
events in the diary where exposure to the sun had caused the
freckles on the young woman to become more pronounced.
Apparently, freckles were not appreciated in her time.
The night came when I realized there were only a few more entries
in the diary. The realization saddened me as I felt as if I was
loosing a dear close friend that shared her innermost thoughts with
me and me alone. I didn't want to read the end nor did I want to put
it down. With great restraint, I held myself to reading it one day at
a time.
It was the last two entries that changed my life, although it would
be a week later before the change would occur. Even today, I
wonder why I waited so long.
The second to last entry described in great detail a ritual that was
titled Mirari Imperfectus. With a little research I found that it
meant imperfect mirror. The young woman had placed such
desperate hopes on the results of performing this ritual that it
almost broke my heart. She said that it would allow her to see
herself as others saw her. I feared for her and wondered if the last
entry was a farewell to the world.
After reading the entry with the ritual, I could not restrain myself
from reading the last entry. To my shock, the entry was a single
line, "Having found how others see me, I no longer need to keep
this diary as I have found true happiness and discovered a
multitude of suitors." I wondered what that meant. Had she found
what she was seeking? What was that about a multitude of suitors?
I pondered the meaning of the last entry for days.
One night, I read the diary from beginning to end in a single
sitting. The story that emerged from that reading was particularly
spellbinding. It was like I was reading a story of my life. By the
end, I was crying in sympathy with her and in despair for myself. I
wondered if the spell had worked and she had found happiness.
Reading that last entry over and over, I decided that it had. Would
that ritual work for me as it appeared to have worked for her?
A week after reading that last entry, I stood in front of a full length
mirror staring at my reflection. My eyes moved automatically from
one imperfection of my body to the next, dwelling long and hard at
each site. With great hope and fear, I invoked the ritual that I had
memorized by heart. When I was done, I saw no difference in my
reflection. Each imperfection was still there. It broke my heart as I
concluded that others saw me as I saw myself.
That afternoon, I went to the convenience store a couple of blocks
from my apartment to get a quart of milk. I had been there
hundreds of times, this trip was nothing special. I always chatted
with the man that owned the store thinking nothing of it. I glanced
at him and suddenly my mind was filled with an image of a
goddess on a pedestal. The image lasted for less than a second. I
couldn't remember the details of the image, but the overall effect
was that of an extremely attractive woman that was unobtainable.
The longing and adoration conveyed in that single glimpse was
overwhelming. I was staggered and barely able to hold a
conversation with him as the image was repeated each time he
glanced in my direction.
As I left the store, an elderly man held the door open. As I glanced
at him, the image of a proper young woman full of life and
potential filled my mind. The vibrancy of youth had engendered a
feeling of envy within the old man, yet there was an appreciation
of my feminine form. When I smiled at him and thanked him for
his courtesy, I sensed a gratefulness at having been noticed.
Returning to my car, I stopped to think about what I had
experienced in the store. Could it be that the clerk had a long
standing crush on me? Was that Goddess on the pedestal how he
viewed me? Was the old man really that grateful that I had taken
the time to smile and thank him? I drove away with more questions
than answers.
At a traffic light, I caught a woman looking at me. When I looked
at her, I had an image of my face and hair. She was envious of my
hairstyle! How could that attractive woman envy anything about
me? This, in many ways, was more shocking to me than either of
the two men. Surely a woman would be much more critical of my
appearance. The light changed and our cars parted ways. I drove
on mechanically as my mind generated even more questions.
Returning home, I paced my apartment thinking of what I had
experienced. Could this have been the same as what the young
woman who wrote the diary had experienced? I decided that it
must have been my imagination at work. There was no way that I
could be viewed so attractively by others. Wishful thinking, that's
what it must have been.
My hopes for finding a man returned as the afternoon passed. I had
an invitation to a simple barbecue party thrown by Susan and her
husband, Steve. Susan had hinted to me that there would be lots of
single men there. The promise of single men threw me into a
tizzy. What does one wear to an informal barbecue party that
would attract men? Tight fitting blue jeans would show off my fat
thighs and big butt. Loose fitting clothes would make me look
dumpy and no man likes a dumpy looking woman. I settled for a
simple skirt that came to my poor ugly knees and a simple white
blouse. Underneath, I wore a plain bra, cotton panties, and
pantyhose. The clothes were not sexy, I never felt sexy.
Susan, lovely as always, answered the door when I knocked. We
looked at each other and again I experienced an image flashing
through my mind. This image conveyed pity. Pity? She pitied me?
My very best friend pitied me? How dare she pity me? The image
flashed again after we kissed cheeks. A pretty princess locked
within walls of glass with a sign that said, look but don't touch.
Could it be that she pitied me because I was so lovely and yet so
emotionally distant to those around me? It was not possible, I must
have been dreaming.
I glanced at Steve and received an even greater shock at the image
that flashed through my mind. I was making love to Susan as he
made love to me. The image was not sharp and pornographic, but
soft as though seen through gauze. I was pretty and the
attractiveness of my body complimented Susan as we lay in bed
together. This was accompanied by a feeling of desire that I had
never sensed existing within another person. It took me by such
surprise that I stumbled as I entered the room. Steve caught me
before I could fall to the ground. As I looked up at him, an image
of a beautiful desirable woman flashed through my mind.
As I was introduced to others at the party, I received flashes of
images, feelings, and thoughts. Women looked at me with
jealousy, their insecurities making them envious of me. My hair,
breasts, legs, weight, and height were envied. Each woman, no
matter how attractive, had found features of my body that they
wished they had. Incredulous at this since there wasn't a woman
there that I wouldn't have traded my soul to have a body like hers.
While the women were envious, the men desired me more than I
ever thought possible. They looked at my lips, eyes, legs, breasts,
and ass with desire. Even my neck, that I had always thought of as
too long, was admired by the men. While they looked at me with
desire, I realized there was an undercurrent to their feelings
towards me. I intimidated them with a standoffish attitude that
shouted look but don't touch.
I was thankful when the introductions were over and could I stand
by a table filled with snacks. I ate distracted by flashes of images
from those around me each time I looked at someone that was
looking at me. The flashes had an effect on me as my thoughts
became increasingly distracted. It soon became too much for me
and I needed a moment of peace away from the sight of other
people. I slipped from the room to hide in the bathroom where I
would be assured of solitude.
The isolation was absolutely necessary. My mind was
overwhelmed by the images that I had received from the people at
the party and couldn't process it. I had not realized how often
people looked at me over the course of even a few minutes. Nor
had I recognized the desire in their eyes when they looked at me.
Ugly me was desired? Did they not see my many flaws and
imperfections? Confusing me was the fact that I had not had a
single image that showed me as I saw myself.
Under control, I left the security of the bathroom to face the crowd
once more. A handsome man approached. When I looked at him, I
had the image of being a trophy mounted on his wall of conquests.
I was angered, embarrassed, and thrilled at the same time. The
source of my anger lie in the fact that he thought I was something
to be hunted and bedded like some sort of trophy animal. My
embarrassment and thrill found root at the thought that I was
worthy of being considered a trophy.
Later I talked to another man who hardly looked at me all. The
whole time I was there, he prattled endlessly about his job as an
accountant. When I did catch his eye, the image I received was so
bright that it staggered me. I was a sun Goddess shining brightly,
dispelling the darkness in his life. Under it all, he wanted to
convince me that he could support me in the way that I would love
and that he would care for me for life. His prattle was a bid for my
attention. He was shouting, I am stable and earn good money, look
at me and show me the least bit of interest. How could I have
missed his intentions?
As food was being served, I found myself sitting next to an
engineer by the name of Harry. He was a quiet man that said little
and tended to look away from me. When I caught his eye, the
image that I received was far warmer than I could have possibly
expected from a cold engineer. Again, his words concerned his
occupation and living conditions, but internally he was bidding for
my attention as well. He was hoping that I would consider him a
good catch and worth my consideration. Telling wry subtle jokes,
he hoped that I would find him interesting and fun. I knew that
because when we looked at each other, the image I saw was of me
as a woman that would find such jokes amusing. I liked that image.
Harry left and returned with two bottles of beer. As I caught his
eye, I received the image of a knight in shining armor serving his
lady. The romantic nature of the image sent tingles down my spine.
It was unbelievable that a man could view me as a fairy tale
princess. Sure this was a schoolgirl fantasy, but it made me feel
warm and wanted all over. It made me look closer at this goofy
looking guy with overlarge ears and crooked smile.
I started paying more attention to him and the images I received
back were even better. It was when I started rubbing my hand up
and down the beer bottle that the images changed their nature.
Suddenly, I had visions of my hand wrapped around a cock. Even
though it was just a mental image, the emotional power that I had
over him took my breath away. It excited me in a very sexual way.
I had to cool off, so I took a sip of beer as I looked over the bottle
at him. That was a mistake. The beer bottle was replaced by a
cock. It would be a lie to say that I felt degraded by that image
when the converse was true. He saw me with the head of his cock
in my mouth looking up at him with wide open eyes and adoration.
I knew this was accurate as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Each time that I sipped my beer, that same image flashed through
my mind. The adoration that was conveyed by me in that image
was nothing compared to the intensity of his feelings towards me. I
knew that this man would walk through fire if I asked it of him.
The image excited me far more than I could have ever entertained.
I had to set down the beer half finished before my excitement
became too obvious. I think we were both squirming in our seats.
As the evening wore on, I talked to other men and saw myself
through their eyes. In each case, any little attention that I paid to
them was reflected in desire. The men liked my mouth, nose, neck,
breasts, legs, shape, and hair. Even features that I detested were
found attractive. The body that I occupied, that I had hated for
years, was desired by men of all ages and occupations.
The list of imperfections that I kept was replaced by a list of
features that others liked. To discover that after years of keeping
others away so that my ugliness would not be used in insult, I had
found that others viewed me very differently. If there was any
negativity in the images, it was that I was cold and indifferent to
the attentions of the men around me.
That night I left the party with Harry for a cup of coffee at a local
diner. I knew, even as I departed, that I could have gone with any
man there, single and married. The interests of the single men
ranged from lust to companionship to possible love. The interests
of the married men ranged from mistress to a third in a threesome
with their wives. I was shocked to learn that Steve was not the only
married man to feel that way towards me.
Harry and I took separate cars to the diner. Due to catching a
traffic light, I arrived after him. When I spotted him looking and
waving at me, a sensation of intense relief washed over me that
originated from him. I could see a picture of me with two subtitles,
bitch and angel. The word bitch was crossed out and I realized that
he had feared that I had stood him up. Despite the potential for
insult, I understood that it reflected his insecurity. Yet, I also knew
that if I had stood him up, then I would have warranted the title of
bitch.
As we drank coffee, I was given further insight into how men and
Harry, in particular, viewed me. When he looked at my lips, he
thought of kissing them, being kissed by them, and my lips locked
around his cock. When he looked at my breasts, it was in terms of
touching and kissing them. I was almost shocked when the image
of his cock sliding between my breasts flitted into my mind.
I came home late, sexually excited, and yet fundamentally
changed. As I stood naked in front of the full length mirror, I saw
myself as others saw me. The words from the last entry in the diary
came back to me, "Having found how others see me, I no longer
need to keep this diary as I have found true happiness and
discovered a multitude of suitors."
The next morning, the spell that I had cast ended. My insights into
how others viewed me in the here and now were gone. It did not
matter, for when I looked in the mirror it was a different reflection
staring back at me. For now, I knew what I looked like and was
happy with my appearance. I had found true happiness and
discovered a multitude of suitors.
I returned to the used book store with Harry on a date. I know it
sounds like a strange date, but he's an engineer and was more than
happy to spend an afternoon in a used book store. As I pretended to
go through the stacks of books, I slipped the diary in amongst
them. Perhaps one day, another young lady would discover the
book and it would help her as it had helped me.
<1st attachment end>
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