JUL–19–2024
Words by: Anna Lupardo
Graphic by: Midjourney
Graphic by: Midjourney
Mirror mirror on the wall, please tell me I am the fairest of them all. Don’t tell me that my concealer is too light, and you can still see the bruises I’ve left on my nose from picking at my blackheads. Don’t tell me that my hair is too dark and that my mustache is already back for revenge. Don’t tell me that my upper arms are too fat or that I need to change my outfit. Don’t tell me that my dimples make me look like a little girl instead of a young woman. Don’t tell me that my cellulite sticks out at this angle. And don’t you dare tell me that my ass measures up, but my stomach never will.
No matter, I say to my mirror. I may not be the fairest of them all, but I can run from you. But what’s worse than my bathroom mirror, is the looking glass I carry in my pocket everywhere I go. My cellphone finds moments throughout my every day to remind me that I am not doing enough. I am not healing enough, I am not exercising enough, I am not taking enough time for myself. Not only that, but I also find myself killing my confidence with comparison. With the help of social media, the ability to compare myself to others has no end. Every app I open is a death trap, and every post I view is another possible trigger, telling me I don’t have enough friends, I don’t party like I should, I don’t act like I should, all thoughts that have the ability to send my brain into a spiral. Please stop this torment, I beg to my looking glass. But my reflection just stares back at me, with nothing to say.
For the longest time, I was under the impression that my bathroom mirror, my phone screen, or any other reflective surface for that matter knew me better than anyone. This made sense, seeing as they were the ones who have watched me overanalyze countless numbers of texts, praying that I don’t say the wrong thing. They have watched me talk to my reflection, as if it were someone, I never had the heart to stand up to myself. They have watched me cry in ways I try my best to shield from the people I love. They have seen my hurt. They have seen my pain. They have seen the self-torture I bring upon myself, allowing myself to believe that this standard of perfection I hold for every aspect of my life is something heathy and attainable. But it turns out my looking glass has never been the villain. I am. I am the villain.
I am the one who has redone my hair hundreds of times before leaving for work, just to make sure there were no visible bumps. I am the one who has picked apart every single imperfection on my face, until I made myself bleed. I am the one who has changed my outfit because I thought it didn’t look right. I am the one who has allowed people I barely know on Instagram to dictate to me a standard of beauty, a standard of STRENGTH, A STANDARD OF BRAVERY…a standard of enough.
Mirror mirror on the wall, I am happy I am not the fairest of them all. I am happy that I am not perfect. Because if I were perfect, I would have never fought with my best friend. And if we never took the time to talk through that fight, then we would never know how much we mean to each other. If I were perfect, I would have never made the man I love cry. And if I had never made the man I love cry, I would never have been able to see every single part of his beautiful soul. If I were perfect, I would already have everything I want. And if I already had everything that I could ever want, I would have nothing to work for and nothing to appreciate.
So now my mirror, it is time for you to break. It is time that I start searching for the light that shines through to my imperfections because my imperfections are here to stay. So being aware of them shouldn’t force me to wish them away, but rather to embrace them. Every. Single. Day.