Writing Prompt Day #2: Bathroom Mirror (5 minutes)


I’m not sure which I hate more, the reality of my body or simply the reflection of it in the bathroom mirror. And it isn’t so much a hatred as a misunderstanding. It’s taken me most of my life to come to terms with my body as it is. That it’s malleable, yes, but for the most part, this is the vessel with which I must live my life. The mirror lies. The mirror tells me I’m not good enough. But this is an opinion I would never make without the ability to compare my vessel to others. And this is something I could never do with out staring, vacantly into my bathroom mirror. It’s as if I’m looking for flaws that don’t really exist. I’m only picking out minor details because it seems as though I’m not allowed to love myself. There’s an odd stigma attached to finding something about your body that you dislike. That there must be some aspect of themselves that everyone dislikes. However, there must be an aspect of themselves that everyone loves as well. I’ve been too cerebral about this. My body is more than the reflection in the mirror. My skin is as soft as it is strong. I take it for granted how much work my skin does holding in my organs and veins. I take for granted how good it feels to be touched by someone I love. And how that touch awakens new


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