For as long as she can remember, she has had mixed emotions and varied experiences with a mirror... I will only focus on one source of these mixed emotions in this blog...
She always remembers in her early teens and beyond smiling in the mirror. As she got ready for whatever door of activity she was about to enter, she almost always found her face smiling back at her in the mirror. The smile I am referring to has always came from the same thought source...
"I am too pretty to be fat."
I realize this statement lies at the extreme end of thoughts about one's looks. Part 1: I am...pretty. Part 2: I am...fat
I've always thought I had a decent amount of beauty and charm in my face. I've always battled with maintaining that feeling of beauty in regards to my body. She doesn't always see a beautiful body looking back at her in the mirror. But, wait, who ever told her what a beautiful body was? Who ever told her what she and her body had to have (well, more accurately, what it had to NOT have) to be considered someone with a beautiful body. Who ever told her "You cannot have that cellulite, it is far from beautiful" or "You cannot have that pudge on your belly, not even just a little bit, or it will not be beautiful". Who ever told her these things? Where did she get them from? Will she ever be able to rid herself of these credentials of "beauty"?
No matter what size I am, she still looks and always finds herself mocked by the reflection of a beautiful face; this beauty she sees in her face often doesn't match her judgment of her lacking, imperfect body.
The incongruence of mine and her emotions about this reflection in the mirror has remained brutely and utterly exhausting. Who likes perfect anyhow? Perfection is boring and impossible and ridiculous. Yeah, well, I know that. But, try telling her that...
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