Distortion is ugly and the beauty in truth

What do you see in the mirror?

I think the ugly cloud has hovered overhead for nearly as much as I remember. Elementary school I felt short and didn't like how my eyes were so narrow and chinky. Middle school I just felt extremely awkward in anything I wore and hated my hair. Highschool was a magnanimous train wreck of rebellious skin, unfortunate haircuts and a fixation freckles, face and just... everything. Ugly, ugly, ugly.

The really ironic part? I look at pictures of me back then and even of the years I felt the most hideous and visually unimpressive, I look back and I see a beautiful girl. I see long glossy, deep chocolate colored locks in eye-catching hairties. I see an adorable little figure in white tights and a floral print dress fit for any magazine ad. I see a smile that perfectly compliments a romantic springtime garden. That girl had to live those years believing the lie that she was ugly and not worth looking at. What evil lies that skewed what she saw in the mirror and led her to believe it as FACT. What evil, fucking lies led her to lose so much time dwelling, obsessing with not being beautiful. This realization, this unveiling of truth reaches a deep part of me, and the lies that have cut deep and shameful wounds in my self-perception are still being rewritten since looking at those pictures.


Such pain was endured, such self-deprecating pain. I can reluctantly recall being so unhappy with the person I was and looked at and decided to retaliate through restricting -- though I couldn't change my height, bone structure and whatnot, I channeled all my self-hate into changing my weight. What does this mean for me today?

Looking into the mirror is taking a gamble. There are days, sometimes weeks where the lies will creep up and take hold of me, unawares. My eyes pick a part my body like 2 ruthless judges. They will convince my mind of the need to improve and my heart is subsequently ruined for the day with nothing but an insatiable craving for change and improvement.

Then there are those other days. But sometimes I surprise myself with what I see. I see that girl in the pictures of yesteryear, only she's grown up a little, 22 years old actually, and has shorter hair. She compliments the colors in her outfit nicely and has cute freckles and moles that speckle her otherwise milky yellow-hued skin.

Someday, I wish this could be the norm of my days. Where the soilbeds of aligning truth and perception blossom into confidence and knowing I am worthy. Until then I'm fighting, constantly fighting. The army of lies are relentless cockroaches, evolved to resist and adapt. Defeating them is going to take a lot more than halfserious defense tactics. But this is just a day out of the long process of getting there. No matter what happens from this raging internal battle, I am a child of God. And nothing can take that away from me. Not even biggest, ugliest LIE.

What do you see in the mirror?