Have you had one of those days where you wake up on the wrong side of the bed with the ultimate bad hair day of all bad hair days and you can't seem to look yourself in the mirror without a depreciating sneer at your reflection? I've been there, and I know just how mean I can be.
I would rummage my closet, dig through piles of old and new clothes and find nothing that looks good on me. I could take a full hour just trying on one dress after another, matching a pastel top with this new pair of floral print pants or maybe a sheer blouse with that lace skirt, and still find no satisfaction at the girl in the mirror. I would be dangerously running late to wherever it is I'm going to, starting to sweat a little or a lot and be so frustrated because nothing fits the way I want it to.
Bitterness builds up and anger boils over. I blame that person staring back at me for looking less than acceptable, no matter what I do. I pick on her full head of disobedient hair, on her chubby cheeks, on her multiple chins, on her flabby arms, on her rounded belly...and I sling hurtful words at her, one after another, until she feels worn down and worthless. Then I sit on the edge of my bed, feeling exhausted and sorry for myself, throwing a pity party for one and wishing I didn't live in this body.
At home, in bed at an hour that usually means deep slumber, I am alone and my thoughts drift to the girl in the mirror. I see her looking defeated, rejected by the person who should love her and accept her who she is and battered by spiteful words that should have never left my lips. She feels little, despite her large frame; and lonely, despite my company.
And in that moment, we begin to heal.
It's a lengthier and wordier-than-usual post. I'm currently trying to regain the use of my writing muscle after quite a long time. Comments would be appreciated.