What do I see? I see imperfections. I see flaws. I do not see me - not the real me. I see and feel ugly. I feel powerless to stop the self-loathing and negativity my reflection invokes.
I started puberty at fourteen and ever since then I have hated myself. All I want to be is beautiful. I want to have the body of my dreams - toned, slim, healthy. But when I look in the mirror I see myself, my reflection, and I'm instantly depressed.
I have to hold back tears. I have to hold my head high and pretend that I am a drop-dead gorgeous woman when I don't feel gorgeous. My facade is good. People don't see through it. My armor impervious to the scrutiny of others, but underneath that armor I'm the same.
Fat. Ugly. Imperfect.
I started puberty at fourteen and ever since then I have hated myself. All I want to be is beautiful. I want to have the body of my dreams - toned, slim, healthy. But when I look in the mirror I see myself, my reflection, and I'm instantly depressed.
I have to hold back tears. I have to hold my head high and pretend that I am a drop-dead gorgeous woman when I don't feel gorgeous. My facade is good. People don't see through it. My armor impervious to the scrutiny of others, but underneath that armor I'm the same.
Fat. Ugly. Imperfect.