Beauty is truth’s smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror. –Rabindranath Tagore
I stand in my bedroom and stare at my image in the full length mirror. I’m wearing my Victoria Secret bra and underwear. Just standing there. Staring. Knowing that I will be damned if I will stand in front of the mirror stark naked. I do that as little as possible.
As I look at myself I see all the flaws. I don’t see the pretty, almost wrinkle free face, the blue eyed, blonde goddess that people say I am. I see the sagging skin, the tiger stripes from having children, the deflated boobs from extreme weight loss.
I see the stretch marks from weighing 325 lbs over a year ago. I see the sagging skin under the upper arms, not the magnificent biceps that I’ve sculpted with weight training and lifting 100 lb. dogs at my grooming job. I see the empty skin of a stomach that used to protrude from being so obese. It’s now empty but will never really recover the muscles and shape from when I was young and thin. Not without surgery anyway. I refuse to have surgery. To alter the progress that I’ve made. It is my Badge of Honor. It reminds me of all of the incredible work that I’ve done. The progress I’ve made. The positive changes that have happened in my life in the last year.
I see dented skin on my inner thighs. Even with all the running, the exercise, the leg presses, they will never look like I want them to. But my calves, my calves they are exquisite. Those I’m proud of.
No, surgery is not for me. I’ll take the flaws. I’ve worked hard for the flaws. For in them there is beauty. In them there is strength. In them there is proof that I worked my ass off. Oh and I’ll make sure to wear a girdle, and pretty bras, and pretty corsets. For even though I live with these flaws, there are ways for me to still look ravishing……