The Reflection I See

Each time a loved one tells me I am beautiful, I struggle to understand what they see in me that is beautiful. The worst part is, I can't figure out if they're just saying that because they feel sorry for me, or because I LITERALLY see a different reflection staring back at me in the mirror. Not being able to distinguish between reality and delusion when it comes to your body is soul-crushing. Is what I'm seeing real? Is that really my face? Is that really my body? If that's what I really look like, how could anyone truthfully say I am beautiful?

You hear it all the time: Everyone is beautiful in their own unique, special way. It's what's on the inside that counts. Everywhere we look, we are told to "fuck beauty standards!" while at the same time, we are being bombarded with gorgeous men and women with the "perfect" bodies all over social media. You know what I'm talking about. For women, the perfect body plastered all over social media is what some call "slim thick"— big ass, snatched hour-glass waist, long, slender legs, and big boobs. They're expected to have flawless, dewy, freshly moisturized skin, long lashes, fleeky eyebrows, and winged eyeliner that could slice a man. Men, on the other hand, have standards they feel pressured to meet, too. Muscular, washboard abs, the most chiseled jawline, perfectly styled hair, and to be frank, they can't be shorter than 5'8".

Whether or not you yourself —male, female, or a gender not otherwise specified—feel the need to adhere to these beauty standards, you have to admit that even the most confident individual has days where they feel they just aren't good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, thin enough, thick enough, tall enough, smart enough, and the list goes on and on.

Low self-esteem aside, what if your flaws—perceived or otherwise—made you feel so unworthy that you found it hard to function in your daily life? What if it made it difficult to face your family or friends, or your coworkers, or have the confidence to date or even leave your house? What if these flaws made you spend hundreds, thousands, even millions of dollars on cosmetic procedures, makeup, and other gadgets to reach your desired aesthetic goals? What if all those things weren't enough? What if nothing was enough and the only option left that seemed reasonable to you, although irrational to those who are mentally healthy, was suicide or self-harm?

This is life when you struggle with severe body image issues.

Even as a little girl, I hated my body and my face. I would spend hours looking in the mirror, turning my face this way and that, practically taking a magnifying glass to each perceived flaw I saw on my face. Before puberty, I would feel each hip bone, my collarbone, and the bones in my wrists to make sure I hadn't gained any noticeable amount of weight. While the number on the scale didn't matter to me at that point, how thin I looked did.

After puberty hit, it only got worse. Girls in my peer group were just beginning to wear training bras and I was already in extra support wire bras because, as one girl pointed out at recess one day in fifth grade, "Your boobs jiggle when you run..." Maybe she was just trying to help me out, but it's a memory I still hold with me to this day. When I brought this up to my mother after school that day, she reassured me by saying, "She's just jealous you're budding into a beautiful, curvy young woman." But that just made me feel even worse! Curvy? Did that mean I was fat? As a teenager, you take everything personally, but when you struggle with body image issues, every little thing said about your body is magnified and blown out of proportion.

As I grew up, there were periods where my body image didn't affect me as much, but it was always there beneath the surface, just waiting to rear its ugly head. This past year has been particularly difficult for me. Lately, I've been dissecting each part of my body—specifically my face. I make a mental checklist of the things I need to fix.

I need to get my eyebrows microbladed. I wonder how much lip injections would cost; I have white people lips (yes, I seriously have said this to myself). And even though there's not much I can do about it at this point, my teeth are my least favorite thing about me. At least with my teeth, I know that flaw is real and not just imagined, because it is the first thing people throw in my face when they want to insult me. For the most part, it works. It does sting. But on the bright side, I know I'm not imagining THAT.

I hate admitting that I let people get to me. I used to be the type of person who swore to never reveal my weaknesses, but I've always been an open book, and mean people will sniff out people's insecurities like they're bloodhounds.

If I had the funds, I would have no problem blowing all of it on plastic surgery, dental implants, and butt and lip injections. But until then, I just try to limit the amount of selfies I take, avoid mirrors unless absolutely necessary (i.e. applying makeup, skincare, and brushing my hair and teeth), and pretend I'm at least somewhat okay with my physical appearance. Fake it till you make it, right?

I find that sticking to a skincare routine, moisturizing my entire body after each shower/bath, and practicing general self-care helps me keep the negative thoughts at bay. Although every day is a battle with the reflection I see in the mirror, I know I was put on this earth to do much more than just be pretty. As hard as it is at times, focusing on my intellectual, spiritual, and financial goals as well as my physical goals help me keep things balanced. And while I'm not where I want to be, thank goodness I am not where I used to be.