"I've gained more weight," I would say in disgust to my reflection as if the mirror image of me could talk back.
I was always looking in the mirror in a judgmental way. Never did I wake up and stare at that bed wrecked image and say I looked beautiful.
I always used the magazines as my standard to live by. That or the movies I watched. The women the heroes fell for were always so thin. So beautiful.
So not me.
I knew this, yet I didn't listen. I guess I figured that, in the end, whether I was as skinny as a flag pole or as fat as a pillow, nothing would ever change who I was inside.
That person scared me.
It morphed daily. Sometimes that person would be on a high and have hope. Other days that person would sink so low they almost forgot why they cared so much about being liked.
I've been doing this sort of act for the better part of two decades now, and it is just a vicious circle. A vicious circle of highs and lows and I'm no more the better for it.
So what if I'm not like those women on the screen? Does that really matter at the end of the day?
I know the person I have trapped inside this body is unique, as is everyone in this world. I need to stop spending so much time on the outside and work more on the in.
Because then, maybe someday if I work at appreciating my own value and know that I'm worth it, I'll be able to get rid of this judgmental sickness.
Maybe someday I'll be able to look at those women I used to use to critique myself and be proud to say,
"They are so not me."