Woman in the Mirror

The thought has struck me before: How is it that I see myself so differently than I see anyone else? Why do I break myself into little pieces and criticize each piece, rather than rejoice in the whole?

Why, when I meet others, do I see the whole person and think how adorable they are, but then expect that everyone who meets me will just see

     that one zit that won’t go away,

     or that I’ve put on two pounds (just two, for crying out loud!),

     or that weird bald spot where my bangs fall?

I bet no one even notices, so why do I?

So this afternoon I came home, looked in the mirror, and this subconscious thought turned into a song. For some reason the lyrics that came into my head arrived on the “So This Is Christmas” melody. (Yes I know it’s mid-May. Don’t judge my subconscious.) Suddenly I realized this song was going through my head, and it went something like this:

Who is this woman there in the mirror

If I just met her, would we get along?

Would I see acne, a scar on her arm;

Would I critique the size of her limbs?

Would I be jealous and wish I were her?

When will we learn to love the bodies we’ve been given?

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