mirror therapy

I have this big-ass mirror in my living room…. it’s just propped up on the biggest empty wall in my apartment. I knew that I wanted the mirror when I got my divorce, but turns out a small 1 bedroom apartment doesn’t accommodate such large items. But I couldn’t lose my ability to see my hair and shoes in the same frame – a girl needs these things. So it just sits there. As soon as I enter my apartment it greets me, sometimes before my dog does. I walk by it several times a day.

Some days this isn’t an easy thing to live with. But sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised by my reflection. I started to wonder if it was becoming detrimental to my self image recently. But one day I had a revelation…

I took off my clothes and sat right there in the middle of my living room in front of my big-ass mirror – as I affectionately call it.

At first I zoned in on my “problem areas”. Hate. hate. hate. I suck. I’m ugly. I can’t fix it. I’ve tried. Ain’t never gonna happen. My obsession is in my mid section. I have this huge inner tube that I swear is the first and only thing that anyone can possibly notice. If they somehow do get past that I’ve got this red birthmark on my right cheek. No, I am not over heated; no, I do not have Rosacea; no, (this one is my favorite) I did not get punched; and no, I am not effing blushing! Thank you!

I continued to sit. And look.

I don’t know how long it took, but I started to separate from the image in the mirror. I became a third party spectator. And you know what? Nothing was that bad. In fact, there were a lot of redeeming qualities there. I have great legs on anyone’s standards. Thick thighs… well, that doesn’t seem too un-sexy… I can totally see how they’d be preferable. That mid section…. it’s not THAT gigantic. It’s not… the only thing that exists in this image. And holy shit, I have great complexion. Every other inch of my face is porcelain-like… I mean… pale? Maybe – but not in a sick way. Could I use some sun? Always. But, the complexion is undeniably enviable.

I reached for my phone. I know, I know, In this day and age reaching for a camera is nothing special. But for me to even humor the idea of a naked picture?! And I don’t mean a pic you take to send to someone that asks or anything to do with sexuality in any form, but a pic just to admire yourself….? That’s different. Now, I’m not saying I took the pics, admired, saved, and shared. No, I didn’t even save them. I looked. I did admire. I liked what I saw. It wasn’t ugly. I didn’t stop at the terrible spots on my body and dwell. I simply looked and didn’t hate myself! I more than didn’t hate it. I was more than accepting of it. I liked it. It was a positive feeling. Not just neutral!

I wish I could say that I left that moment and I was cured of wherever I normally land on the body dysmorphic disorder spectrum… No, I left that moment and it didn’t take long for my insecurities to come rushing back. The self doubt, the self hate, the self dwelling on “bad” body parts. But…

Mirror Therapy. I’m making it a thing. I’m going to track the long term effects. I’m going to see if I can take those moments of clarity and see if I can’t transcend them to my every day ideas of myself for longer and longer periods of time.

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2 Responses to “mirror therapy”

  1. subspeak Says:

    This is how I got over my major body confidence issues when I was younger, I used to sit in front of my bedroom mirror, brush my hair and think about what I liked about myself. At first it was difficult but it kept getting easier and easier and I thought of more and more things I liked about me. Now I only need to do it occasionally when I need a pick me up. Occasionally, Sir sits behind me and brushes my hair and I just think of how lucky I am.
    Mirrors are amazing and you discover so much when you really look at yourself properly 🙂

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