“I don't feel like myself when I look in the mirror anymore”
“Me too”, I say, with a sense of comfort.
“I keep beating myself up over things I can't change”
“Me too”, I say, as I feel understood.
“I look at a picture of myself and point out ten things that are wrong”
“Me too”, I say, knowing exactly how that feels.
It's a Sunday morning, I overslept in my too-bright room,
I squint my eyes to read half past ten across my phone,
Not the best start, but what did we expect?
I take a step towards an all familiar bathroom mirror,
I don't see a helpless girl in a world which doesn't want to help,
I see dark circles, skin that could be clearer and unruly hair,
Always looking for the solution, but always finding a problem.
It's almost relieving to hear “me too” when someone says they hate their body, or they hate themselves. Isn't that sad? Isn't it sad how we’re all connected by that string of unacceptance?
How every social media post, every comment and every story makes us feel worse about ours. Why do people that don’t know us, make us question ourselves?
Isn't it sad how others' insecurities make us feel more secure?
“I’m happy with my progress”
“I love and accept myself.”
“I’m comfortable in my own skin.”
I wish I could say me too.
~ Gauri and Shriya