Woman in the Mirror


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Who is she?

Why isn’t she looking away? Why isn’t she hiding herself, covering up? Why isn’t she shamed by her exposure? Why hasn’t she scowled with disdain and disappointment at another day having passed and nothing having changed? Why hasn’t she uttered disapproval at the way her body is shaped, rolled, and rounded? Why isn’t she looking away?

Why does she look directly back instead of scouring the body for the stretched skin marking the places where she tried to fill her emptiness? Why are her arms at her side instead of covering her stomach, her vulnerable place weighted by her pain?

This woman in the mirror, where has she learned to stand taller? To be comfortable in her exposure? To be radiant in her confidence?

Her skin is etched by her story, her story is not to be denied.

Who is she that glows like the sun? Who has stormy eyes circled by the muted green of the ferns that have been at her feet. Who hugs her curves and marvels at the shape of her figure. Who smiles as her golden hair sways along her sun-kissed back. Who whispers affirmations of love and respect for her body that holds her up, encapsulates her being.

She isn’t looking away because she has no desire to look at anything other than what stands before her. Her eyes do not shy away from herself. She has nothing to hide or cover up. She has no shame. She doesn’t scowl with disdain and disappointment because another day has passed and everything has changed. She hasn’t uttered disapproval because there is nothing to disapprove.

Her skin is etched by her story, her story is not to be denied. She does not wish to scour but to surrender, surrender to the truth of her beauty. Her body no longer absorbs her pain, the pain of living, of being. Her body no longer is the enemy to be fought. Instead her body, along with her mind, is her protection, her shield, her home.

This woman in the mirror, she has learned to stand tall because she isn’t weighed down by the internalizations other people’s words and conjectures. She unlearned the societal conditioning that told her that to be loved, she had to be smaller, dainty, delicate. She unlearned the pressures of restrictive dieting, tracking, weighing, limiting.

She is comfortably exposed because she spoke her truth and the universe didn’t reject her, it welcomed her. The universe said, “We never need you to be anything but who you are. Your authenticity is regal. Your realness regarded.”

She radiates confidence because she trusts in herself. She knows that the glow may fade, the smile may dim, and the affirmations still need to be said, the whispers whispered. She is so full of love and left no space for negativity, for doubt, for criticality.

Woman in the mirror, who is she?

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