Sometimes, alone in lavish powder room, I'd look at the mirrors and catch the fine lines under my eyes. My fingers would linger over the little bumps I'm so unproud of, the pimples that betray my sinful cravings for spicy bird's eye chillies. I'd watch the skin over my chest, and wonder if Gravity hasn't started being evil on me yet, and then I look at the way I've begun to make myself up.
Sometimes the reflection in the mirror doesn't seem like me at all, and then I take a snapshot, to remember this fleeting moment. Outside, clicking heels are approaching, and it's time to keep my camera.
I'm actually lost here, how do I fix up a space between the image and the paragraphs?