I am a real woman with an imperfect body. I have cellulite. It’s ugly, but it’s there. My bad hair days stretch to weeks, and the occasional stress-induced acne breakout becomes a catastrophe of epic proportions. Despite all of my many perceived imperfections, I consider myself less-than interesting looking. I could never look at myself and declare myself beautiful, it isn’t in me to do so. I hide from the evil, evil mirror. I am crushed daily, like a worm. No matter how hard I try or how much I starve myself, or look in the mirror and try and boost my sometimes sagging self esteem, I will never be thin, tall, or young. It sucks and I face it head on like a runaway train. I occasionally spit at the woman in the mirror for her many insecurities. She has interestingly red hair that is neither copper, or blonde, but some kind of bastard child in between. My eyes are the color of the Atlantic Ocean, neither green nor blue but something like the sea after a storm, minus the foam but absolutely with the spare tire floating around.

I already read that women are their own “worst enemy” and in a way, they are correct. We are bitchy and whiny and catty as hell, knocking down strangers and celebrities alike on the way to building up our own self esteem, we work overtime shredding someone to bits. AW hell to the YES. Sometimes it is fun to say Paris Hilton has a wonky eye, or has flippers for feet, or Kim Kardashian has a big old Armenian badonk-badonk and somehow it makes us feel better to know that they have such human flaws. Shit, it makes me feel like a million bucks to see Jennifer Aniston with a zit. HELL YES!!! She can afford all the luxuries of life, and all the pretty things and the goops and the creams and the expensive potions and elixirs and she has a zit?

The media tells us daily that unless we have a thigh gap that, well, we really should kill ourselves. Not only do I NOT have a thigh gap, I am pretty sure that if I walk fast enough I could generate enough friction to cause flame and set myself on fire. That could take care of a lot of problems, but most likely I would only succeed in making s’mores on myself.

“You have such a pretty face, Sherri…. If you would just lose weight”- my mom.

I was trying to find pictures of me, when I was younger, for this post and I realized with great sadness, that I had done a really good job of erasing myself and my image from my past.  There are absolutely no pictures of me during college , very few pictures of me and and any friends together, and with the exception of a few wedding pictures one could seriously question my existence altogether!  Imagine, no pictures of me with the family on vacations, or even at the beach. With family. With friends. How completely sad. Even now, I delete pictures of myself. It’s pretty fucking sad.  

….to be continued

14 thoughts on “HOLY CRAP…THE MIRROR…THE MIRROR…Break it!!!

  1. LOL @ the thigh gap. Where do they come up with these standards?? There’s a period in my life, say about 10 years, that no pictures of me exist. Aren’t parents great for those back door comments? Oh well, they do mean well. Love your blog!

  2. One or two still exist of me, unfortunately. One was my high school yearbook, in which I’m trying to button my coat, so my eyes are positioned downwards. There was a female classmate walking in front of me when someone snapped the photo. It looks like I was staring at her butt, but I swear it was only trying to button my coat.

  3. Pingback: The inspiring and the motivational | Weight2lose2013

  4. I discovered a most excellent way to avoid being in pictures; always be the one to TAKE the pictures. At any event, have that bad boy up in front of your face and keep busy… SNAP, SNAP, SNAPPING! As for mirrors, the furniture and house came with a few, but I have not added any.

  5. I don’t know how I missed this (was probably in the clutches of the drama that was my middle kid’s life), but for the record? Thigh gap (as well as the “bikini bridge”) are propaganda to make women feel like shit about themselves. While I am quite sure not everyone pictured with it has had it Photoshopped in, I am certain the real ones would be genetic. In high school, at 5’7″ at a whopping 110 pounds, I did not have thigh gap. I also have the photos to prove that. Just not possible for me, so there’s that. I mean, seriously…think of me, the height I am now, at 110. Skeletor, right? Yeah. Thigh gap? No, lol. Who bloody cares?

    Also…how do you not even love what you see when you look in the mirror? Plastic Jeebus on my dashboard, woman! You are beautiful! I don’t know what the hell color your hair is, but if Loreal could bottle it, they would make a mint. True story. Don’t even get me started on your complexion. Do you know how many woman would kill for it? Tons. Really.

    As far as you never being young, tall or skinny? In 40 years you will look back on today and think, “Holy crap! Look how young I was in that picture!” Also, I will never be petite or skinny. Genes, babe. I heard something tonight that applies to many of us: if you don’t love what you see in the mirror, get a better mirror, and look harder and longer. (That is not to say get a magnifying mirror, though. Damned things are the devil.)

    Lose weight, don’t lose weight. It isn’t going to change who you are or the reason we all love you so much. Hell, half the trick is to feel comfortable in your own skin. 😉 I think that is something we are all working on.

    Just sayin….

    Love you! ❤

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