Normality

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.