Reflections

Image: Nude In Front of the Mirror (1902), Edvard Munch

Courtesy of Artvee

It’s taken me the better part of 42 years to make friends with my reflection.

When I see myself today, I feel attractive and I know I am pretty. I don’t say that from a place of conceitedness or vanity. I say it from a place of healing because there were times in my life when I hated what/who looked back at me when I stood before the mirror.

When I was a little girl, I harboured no negativity about my appearance. I enjoyed playing dress-up in my mother’s high heels and makeup, strutting in front of her floor-length mirrors, taking out my braids, making way for thick dark waves and curls to tumble towards my shoulders. I loved painting my lips, kissing my own reflection, and bursting into giggles at the sight of the luscious red imprint they left behind, but I can distinctly recall the first time I felt real doubt and self-consciousness in regards to the way I look set in…

I vividly remember how in Kindergarten we spent the entire week leading up to Valentine’s Day crafting cards for the other children in our groups. The big exchange took place on February 14th while we ate chocolate and rice crispy treats and drank Hawaiian punch. My Kindergarten teacher had ensured beforehand that each child in each group made a card for every other child in their group because no one was to feel left out. As I distributed my cards and received mine in return, one boy in my group refused to give me the card he had made for me, nor would he take the card I had for him.

Overwhelmed by the situation (and anxious because, even as a kindergartner, I always zealously followed instructions), I summoned my teacher over. When she asked him why he was withholding my card and declining his, he replied “Because Stephanie is ugly. She has a big nose and big lips and that’s why I don’t like her”. He said this so loudly that all the other children heard and laughed uncontrollably.

Although my teacher sent him to a corner, sharply reprimanding him and demanding that he apologise (which he did as he reluctantly handed me my card under her watchful gaze), I retreated into my shell for the rest of the day. I was so embarrassed that despite my mother noticing my sullen demeanor later at home, I did not tell her what happened. When she asked what was wrong, I thought, “I’m ugly”; I said “Nothing”.

After that incident and throughout primary school, I began to examine myself regularly and more scrutinously in the mirror. I came to the conclusion that what my classmate had so mercilessly pointed out was true – my nose was quite wide and my lips much too big. I also realised that I was chubby.

It was during this time that I began delighting in the early 90s adolescent-drama series, Beverly Hills 90210, and was intrigued by the storyline surrounding the nose job teenager, Kelly Taylor, had received from her mother for her birthday. I was relieved because it gave me hope regarding my nose predicament.

By the time I was in middle school, I was forced to accept the harsh reality that my parents would not be able to gift me corrective surgery for any upcoming birthdays (my goal had been by the time I turn 16), but I had grown very tall, at least, making me less stout. My slimmer build remained temporary though.

As I reached high school, my figure became quite womanly – curvy hips and a rounded bottom, with perky breasts and endless legs. Most of the other girls had very slender, petite frames, were not as tall as, and displayed softer facial features than me. My feelings of inadequacy continued to grow as a result.

My mature physique and height intimidated boys my age, but caught the attention of older male youths. I attempted to override my sense of insufficiency by seeking validation in all the wrong places (from all the wrong people), though nothing and no one ever truly made me feel like I was enough, let alone attractive.

These insecurities accompanied me well into my 20s. I rarely wore anything other than the colours black, grey, and brown because I was convinced any other shades made me look fat and generally drew too much attention. I wanted to blend in as best I could, but it’s difficult to just fade into backgrounds or crowds when you’re a woman who’s 5’11. Needless to say, I did all I could to try.

My uncertainties negatively impacted all my relationships because I never believed the intentions of those who were sincere to be genuine. I chased after the ones I was aware deep down didn’t really care because then I at least knew what I could expect.

My 30th birthday brought about somewhat of a pivot. I had completed university a few years prior and settled into a generously paid job, which enabled extensive and elaborate opportunities to shop. While I was still dissatisfied with my appearance, at this point particularly with my body, I rationalised that despite not being that physically appealing, I could now afford clothes that were gorgeous and flattering (not to mention expensive) to compensate… And that I did – excessively and with a vigilant focus upon exquisite handbags and accessories because, according to my logic at the time, those are always becoming, regardless of how many imperfections your anatomy reveals.

The relief my retail therapy provided wouldn’t be permanent. As my closets became fuller, I could feel my soul becoming emptier, brought about not just by the complete absence of self-love within me, but also by the growing malcontent concerning my job and overall life circumstances. I began to recognise that in order to be at peace with and confident in myself, I had to stop placing so much attention on outward transformation and instead, turn inward.

Though it would take me a while to have the willingness to confront ALL my demons, I started delving into self-development books in lieu of shops on high streets, exploring different concepts of spirituality (to take the emphasis off the notion that my body and appearance are what define me), and, eventually, I sought real therapy. An accident through which I suffered injuries that threatened to leave me with irreversible damage to my face was ultimately the turning point at which I finally fully conceived how ridiculous my previous preoccupation with all my perceived flaws had been.

The inner work I have devoted myself to since then has helped me cultivate a degree of self-assuredness that I never would’ve deemed possible. While I do still have moments of self-doubt, they no longer pertain to anything that has to do with bodily attributes. Overcoming those negative belief systems has been integral to my ability to tackle other perfectionist tendencies that I often used to remedy the sense of lack I retained regarding my looks (being an academic overachiever and workaholic, for example).

I have come to a point where I love the reflection that I see when I look at myself in the mirror. I even say “I love you” out loud to her everyday – a cheesy practice advocated in pretty much every self-development book under the sun – but the fact that I wasn’t able to bring those words over my lips without tears of grief welling up in my eyes the very first time I attempted it proves how impactful something that on the surface may seem so silly can truly be. Today, I can look my reflection right in the eyes and say “I love you”! with conviction and resoluteness and it actually makes me smile.

The only downside to my progress has been having to acknowledge that not everyone is able to share in the joy over my new-found confidence. Unfortunately, there are those who seemed more appeased when I felt unattractive and therefore, to a certain extent, made myself such, projecting my inner uncertainty onto the way I externally carried myself. It was easier for some when I was the wallflower… But I don’t want to dim my light so that others can feel as if theirs is brighter or because some are bothered by the love I finally have for myself. I’ve spent too many years believing myself to be ugly to not thoroughly savour the feeling of being pretty and it would be my hope that anyone who struggles reaches a place where they are this comfortable within themselves!

Issues we have with our own reflections often cause us to feel dispirited by others’ unburdened relationship with theirs… But what it all essentially comes down to is the way we feel about ourselves and the energy we exude as a consequence, not fitting into moulds or adhering to anyone else’s standards or expectations.

The ability to look at and love our reflections - that is what makes us pretty, appealing, attractive, beautiful. After so many years of pointless self-loathing and struggling, I’m happy to have reached a juncture where I can embrace that.