I was planning to write about family today as I’m surrounding myself with my family a lot at the moment. I was going to say that I don’t consider my friends to be my family; I choose them and they fill a completely different space in my life.
Instead after this morning I’m going to have a look at the prompt that I got in my email inbox “Look in the mirror. Does the person you see match the person you feel like on the inside? How much stock do you put in appearances?“
Simply put, no. I don’t feel like the person that I see in the mirror. I feel like a completely different person and I have trouble recognising the reflection. Mirrors lie. Mirrors all reflect different things from different angles. Sometimes I’ll look in the mirror and think that what’s in there isn’t too bad, and then others I look at it and wonder why small children don’t run screaming.
I hate that I have become incredibly good at not looking in mirrors. My bathroom has big mirrors, and I can now do everything in there without having to look at myself once. I can ignore all the mirrors and reflective surfaces in my house without even thinking about it and I wish I wasn’t that good at it. I wish that I could look into a mirror and be happy, or accept it at least.
I don’t want to put as much into the way that I look as apparently I do. It kind of crushes me that I can go from feeling on top of the world to absolutely unable to deal with anything in the space of five minutes because my body does not fit the standard sizing and I have to look at myself in the mirror comprehensively not fitting. I don’t fit much that’s standard, in terms of size and body. Mostly I’m okay with that, so long as I don’t have to remember it.
I don’t want to be this affected by something that I’m trying so hard to get over. I don’t think appearance is the way you should categorise someone, but I’m fighting a losing battle because I just can’t get away from judging my own appearance.