A World Without Mirrors

I’m not seeking pity or fishing for compliments, though I can see why people would think that while reading this. I really just need a place to vent. 

My life revolves around mirrors. Not because I like them. They’re probably my least favorite inanimate object. I wish I lived in a world where they didn’t exist. Where no one owned one and no one ever saw themselves. Because I’ve never known another non-living thing that could be so cruel.

Every time I look in a mirror, I get physically ill. The sight of my body is nauseating. And I can’t think of any reason that someone would look at me and say, “Wow, that girl is beautiful.” Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve heard a comment like that about me in a long time.

I used to think I was pretty. I stopped believing that about the same time I stopped believing in Santa Claus. A lot of people say that I’m confident. Some may even say that I’m a little bit of a narcissist. I’m pretty sure the people who say those things about me know deep down that they’re full of shit.

I don’t think I’m beautiful. I don’t feel like I’ve ever been given any reason to think that about myself. My boyfriend and my parents will say it occasionally, to be polite or to make me feel better. Though, I’ve noticed that when I gain weight – which I seem to do a lot – those rare compliments become more and more infrequent.

I spend a lot of time hating myself because of the way I look. I draw a blank when I try to think about things that I like about myself. I used to like my ass, but I’m starting to see that it’s big not because of my Latin heritage, but because I’m a fatass. I used to like my boobs, but then I put two and two together and realized that they weren’t getting bigger because I was starting to finally fill in after years in high school with a nearly-A-cup bra size, but because I’m a fatass. I used to like my face, but acne has since ruined that one for me. I used to like my smile, but now every picture of me shows me how wide my face has gotten since – you guessed it – I became such a fatass.

Summer is nearly here, and it’ll be time for tank tops and short shorts. But I don’t feel like I deserve to show off any skin. I feel like showing off my enormous thighs would be doing a disservice to all of the other girls who look so good all the time. My muffin top is just embarrassing. So much so that I just want to wear over-sized t-shirts and baggy jeans every time I walk out of the house. I’m afraid I’ll offend someone with my appearance if I dress otherwise. I don’t even want to leave my house anymore because it requires deciding what I can wear without feeling completely shameful the entire time I’m out.

Sometimes I dream that I have a pair of scissors and just mercilessly cut off every piece of myself that I don’t like. Until there’s nothing left, because there’s nothing about me worth keeping.

Honest people always say that you have to be beautiful to get anywhere in this world. Our society hasn’t really done much to prove those people wrong. Being beautiful gets rewarded. That’s why we have celebrities and supermodels and beauty pageants. So where does a girl like me fit into all of that?

I used to think that since I was never going to be beautiful, I could just be smarter and better at stuff than all the beautiful people and that that would somehow cancel out the fact that my body has absolutely no aesthetically pleasing qualities whatsoever. But, as it turns out, I’m not smarter. I’m not better at stuff. I’m pretty average at basically everything I try. There are people out there who are smarter, better, and prettier than me. How am I supposed to compete with that? I can’t.

The world isn’t made to work for people like me. People like me don’t rise to the top of anything. Because people like me are average. My life will always be in the solid C range. That’s just how it works. And we can talk ourselves hoarse about how unfair and wrong that is. But for right now, I’m done. I’m done trying to change the world to better suit people like me. The world isn’t going to change for people like me. There will always been someone who’s stuck being average. There will always be people like me.


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