On her way to the bathroom she overhears her coworker, an office wit with whom she has occasionally flirted, describe her appearance in unflattering terms. Humiliated, she hurries to the mirror and stares at herself in disbelief. How had she not noticed this before? With her recent weight gain and new hair cut, she bears a disconcerting resemblance to Oscar Wilde. For the rest of the day she can’t bring herself to meet anyone’s eyes, and over the next few weeks becomes convinced that anytime she hears someone laugh, they are remembering her friend’s comment.

She begins drinking at lunch. Friends comment she no longer seems like “her old self.” She spends as much time as possible alone in the bathroom. One day she grips the frame of the toilet stall on either side and on sudden impulse smashes her forehead as hard as she can into the sharp edge. After the initial blast of pain subsides, and numbness spreads from her teeth to her jaw and right arm, It feels good. Her inner and outer worlds have reached equilibrium.