30 Days Of Reflection - My Reflection In The Mirror

When I read the first of Essin' Em's 30 Days Of Letters (Done before her by other bloggers whom I keep intending to read in length), I was intrigued. And now I'm giving it a go myself.

Hi there reflection,

You’ve been, along with my shadow, my constant companion for 21 years now. When I was small, I thought you were me in another world. Sometimes I still wish you were. When I reached adolescence, you were my worst enemy - every time I saw you I saw the bushy eyebrows, the crooked, bumpy nose thanks to that bitch who kicked me in it, the large moles. I struggled to find things I liked about you, but couldn’t.

When I first used you when plucking my eyebrows, I went drastically overboard and wound up with pencil-thin lines where there was anything at all. It took several years for me to take tweezers to my brows again - after that I simply used a razor, to shape, then eventually to shave entirely off and when I did that, when I looked in the mirror before drawing them on, I resembled an alien. Now I alternate depending on how lazy I am. At least I have eyebrows again and can go out sans makeup without odd looks.

When I was younger, I’d look at you, glare at my small chest, and pray for larger breasts. I thought I wasn’t anything without an hourglass figure. Now I look at them and think to myself ‘many guys and girls alike have enjoyed these with no complaint. They’re sensitive, they’re decorated with scars and in due time, with piercings, and they’re awesome’. It took me years to get here, but I finally did.

For a brief time, I hated my jawline. Now I don’t give a crap. As long as I keep on my pills my weight doesn’t do anything funky and leave me with an extra chin, and that’s all I ask of it. I no longer fantasize about getting plastic surgery to have a perfect jaw.

You’ve seen many permutations of my hair, you’ve seen the addition of scars and metal and the ever-changing cosmetic routine. You’ve seen me corsetted in silk and comfy in flannel. You no longer seem to judge me. You’re damn perfect for me, and I’m damn perfect for me. You’re beautiful, and don’t you dare fucking forget it.