Day 3: Mirror Work

Ummmm I kind of wanted to skip this day.  My relationship with the mirror is much like my relationship with the scale. It’s a necessary evil.  I weigh too much…that is, too often. I get anxiety when I can’t have access to a scale, i.e. vacation. My self worth has been tied to the scale and the mirror for quite some time.  There are times when I realize this flawed way of thinking and can kick it’s arse. However, most of the time it happens subconsciously and I only reap the aftermath it has on my day like the destruction of a tornado.  I can be having a perfectly fine day until the number on a small box tells me I am not up to par. I immediately think I’m a failure and the tidal wave of negativity snow balls. I know, how dare I allow a number to dictate my mood. I have even taken the battery out and placed the scale in the back of my closet so it would be difficult to pull out and put back together. Turns out it isn’t that much of a nuisance to put a battery back in.

The same goes for the mirror. Small glances from afar are usually not a problem. Most of the time, I can appreciate the image that stares back briefly. It has taken a long time to appreciate that reflection. From a very young age, I vowed to get my nose fixed as soon as I graduated high school.  Thankfully I have decided that my nose makes me look like…well…me. Changing it would feel like putting on someone else’s face, which just didn’t feel right for me. But my battle with acne has been an ugly one.  You would think at 35, I could catch a break. Not so much.

I feel guilty to admit these insecurities. I know I am a beautiful woman. Apparently that is a taboo thing to admit, but every woman has a beauty to reveal. I know this to be true. God created women and yes, he created them to be beautiful. If you haven’t read ‘Captivating’ by Stasi Eldredge, I would highly recommend it.

So today’s challenge to do “mirror work” seems a little daunting.  To look into my eyes, past my eyes, and to not focus on my face?  The directions are to say out loud, “I am lovable. I am worthy. My worth is not connected to the size of my body (or the clearness of my skin). I have purpose.” I have come a long way from the chubby middle school girl that was ridiculed for my weight. Or the dangerously thin high school freshman with an eating disorder.   My stretch marks that I once despised, I no longer notice.  They signify the strength of my body as it stretched to carry and nourish the children I so desperately prayed for.  I wear my scars as badges of honor. Some make for good stories like the huge one on my leg from flipping a three wheeler.  And of course my C section scars from which my babies were brought into the world. I have a long way to go. I want to accept it all. I want to love it all and appreciate what I see in the mirror in it’s entirity. I am lovable. I am worthy. And my God given purpose can not be wavered by a number or a reflection.

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