Oh my God, oh my God. This is so terrible. What are you doing? What have you done? This is going to take so long to fix.

The words I said to myself as I stood in front of the mirror, paused from transitioning into pajamas. I forced myself to stay there, bare in front of the mirror, except for my favorite white and pink Victoria’s Secret underwear. I brushed my teeth there, staring. Staring in disbelief. What have I done!? I am disgusting. How could I let this happen?

My eyes drew to the pretty pink Victoria’s Secret flowers —the only acceptable part of my body wasn’t actually a part of my body, rather, on my body. The only part I could stand to look at. I forced my eyes up and down. Scanning, turning, pinching, squeezing.

It’s all so awful.

I scrutinized every inch of my body, thoughts like daggers, compassion lost.

Sometimes when little-me is terrified, I feel terrified as an adult that I exist in such a massive body, such a womanly body, when it seems I should be only half my size.

I have to fix this. I cannot spend another day in this body. It’s far too much.

Sometimes it feels like little-me is trying to escape from my body. Exiting my stomach, exploding, and running as fast as she can as far as she can. Away. So far away from the disgusting shell that has housed her.

And all of these feelings stir up a sadness I can’t contain. As if future-me is sad I failed little-me. She is always so scared and all I can do is claw at my own skin. Vowing to take up less space tomorrow. Checking for bones, as if the more visible they are, the more protected I’ll be.

I’m sorry I can’t protect little-me. I don’t know how. My body fills with panic and I forget where I was going. Am I still brushing my teeth? Can I stop scanning my body now? If I promise to make this body less, will this dreadful feeling of doom disappear?

2 thoughts on “The Mirror Before Me

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