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Stumbling from bed half awake, I literally hobble to the bathroom on feet that won't walk straight, and a back bent over in a broken position. It's 6:30 a.m. and although I'm up, it takes my body a few minutes to get with the program.

I look in the mirror, squint and look closer. Man, I look bad. What the hey is going on around my eyes? Okay, I need to stop squinting ASAP! At least my freckles are cute and sexy. Wait, I inspect more closely. OMG! Those aren't FRECKLES, they're AGE SPOTS! I stare at the brown spots that were once freckles. I see how each little dot has literally consumed the one next to it and grown twice its size.

As I'm staring, I notice something else. Hairs - long, dark ones by the corner of my mouth. Ew. They're so dark, I think the hair by my lip has sucked all the pigmentation from my head and that's why I now also need an appointment with a colorist! What is happening? I try to pull out the offending hair, but, yeah, it's in-grown so I wind up having to dig into my skin, and I just know I'm squinting as I attack my face with the tweezers. Now there's a puffy red mound next to my lip and half the offending hair is still deep in there. I'm getting prettier by the minute. Why did I get out of bed? Oh, right. It is a bathroom for a reason.

Business done, I'm about to head out when my eye is attracted to the flat metal square on the floor. I'm obviously a sadist this morning. NO! My brain is screaming. Do not do it. Don't! But of course I will. There's no stopping me, it seems. I step on, exhale all my breath and look down. What are those??

Some scraggly, old witch is missing her feet! I want to turn away but I can't help but stare at the scaly skin, funky nails and the deformed-looking appendage that looks as if a sixth toe is about to be born. I walk on those things? I am so distracted by the feet I used to fancy as foot model material that I almost missed the nail in the coffin. I've gained two pounds.

I want to kick the scale. I want to break the mirror! I want to go back to bed! This is a very bad dream! Traumatized, I snuggle back under my protective covers. Someone obviously needs a whole lot of beauty sleep. I look at the clock. It is 6:34 a.m.

I have 11 minutes to make it happen.

- Alisa Schindler

Alisa Schindler is freelance writer who chronicles the sweet and bittersweet of life in the suburbs on her highly entertaining blog www.icescreammama.com. Her essays have been featured on Mamapedia.com and Bonbonbreak.com as well as in the book, Life Well Blogged. She is a member of "Yeah Write," an online community for writers, where she has won the Jury Prize multiple times in the group's weekly essay writing contest. She has just completed her first novel that she feels comfortable showing to someone other than her mother.