Aren’t all mirrors supposed to be the same?
In some of them I can see my progress. Sometimes I can even see beauty. I can notice my smile, my hair, a lit-from-within happy girl who looks healthy and confident.
In most of them I see fat. I see jiggling and rolls and sadness and age and defeat. I see rounded, endomorph proportions with sagging features, weighted down by excess adipose tissue and a troubled face. I see eyes that do nothing but compare and dart nervously, always too small.
When I see myself next to large people, I believe I’m slim and my confidence grows deep and wide.
When I see myself next to thin people, I believe I’m an enormous cow and how on earth did I EVER think I was getting somewhere in my weight loss? I berate myself, holding in tears, “How could you dare to let yourself celebrate or be happy? How could you possibly think that progress has been made? You are DISGUSTING.”
How is this possible?
My body belief is based entirely on circumstance and environment.
