I was terrified of looking at myself. And the only thing that fixed it? Looking at myself.
I thought it was a fluke; something that would disappear as it always had. But it doesn't appear to be one.
When I look in the mirror, I see someone pretty.
Usually I'm lucky to think that a few times a month. Tiny little moments of feeling not too hideous. And those moments happen due to putting on makeup. But now I see it, always. I stare in the mirror and - as shocked as i am - I can't get over feeling this way.
Since posting that nude photo of me several months back, I’ve begun seeing myself differently. I look at naked photos of myself - accurate naked photos of myself - and it has slowly changed. I can look at the photos now with no judgment. I’ve stared at them over and over and over again. Slowly I went from shame to neutrality. Then from neutrality to acceptance. But I needed more.
Remember how I was filmed while fucking recently? I’ve watched all of those videos numerous times, trying to normalize my body in motion (which differs wildly from a body in stasis). And I saw nothing ugly in them. At some point I realized, I just might be a hot piece of ass!
I’ve been called pretty and beautiful and sexy and cute and I either contradicted the speaker or shrugged it off as someone trying to be nice. I fought so hard to convince people I'm not pretty because I couldn't see it. Never ever ever could see it. And now I do. Starting in the mirror at a super fat, gimpy girl with bad roots and no makeup and seeing, truly seeing, that I’m okay.
For so many years I looked in mirrors and saw nothing acceptable, nothing that's good enough. And now I see something different. I have nothing to apologize for.
I look in mirrors now and see a fire in my eyes. Passion, love, rage, fear,,,all burning hot. Eyes that are tired of bowing out. Eyes that are tired of me seeing ugly and unacceptable when I look in the mirror.
I understand how being vain in a world that spends every moment of every day trying to destroy you can be a rebellious act. Staring in a mirror at a super fat, gimpy girl with bad roots and no makeup and seeing, truly seeing, that I'm okay.
I don’t know what, exactly, flipped that switch but it's been done. I see my body as acceptable. I see my body as more than acceptable. And I cry for the fact that it took me 34 years to see.
But more than that, I cry joyously for the future this will bring.