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I looked at myself in the dressing room mirror this weekend. Like, looked.
I took my sweet time. I even turned in a circle to make sure I wasn’t missing anything. In case you’re wondering why the fuck I’m telling you this, let me fill you in: girls don’t like to look at themselves in dressing room mirrors. At least not too hard, or else you just end up like that girl in the movie “White Chicks” who has a meltdown and starts referring to herself as Cellulite Sally.
There is just something about the mirrors at the mall that are somehow designed to show every single lump, bump, or stretch mark while also making you look like a pale, chubby plastic bag that’s been stuffed with mayonnaise. How do they make mirrors that do that? They’re awful. I usually cringe every time I even catch a glimpse of my own legs while in the process of tugging on a new pair of jeans. Yeah, I still wear jeans. That’s a conversation for another time.
But this time, I paused for a second. I was butt ass naked at this point except for my thong, because I was trying on a bralette, among other things (so cute, by the way, and 20% off.) I am not at the fittest I’ve ever been in my life right now, but I’m also doing a lot better than I was at this point last year, which is nice. It’s like being on a plateau on the way up a mountain: there’s still a ton of progress to be made until you summit, but at least you aren’t at rock bottom anymore.
I immediately heard my own voice in my head making a litany of the usual grievances I have against my own body. My left thigh has more cellulite than the right, for one thing. I already have a few spider veins and my love handles are a lot more prominent than they were a few years ago. I’m softer and rounder in more places. I can barely look at my upper thighs on some days– my absolute least favorite part of myself.
But then, like I said before, I took a moment. I stopped the voice in my head, and I looked at myself with a little more of something foreign when it comes to my self-judgment: compassion. It was weird. It wasn’t the same as telling yourself you look good in an attempt to boost your self-confidence even though you really don’t feel that way. It was honesty, but without the bite. It was honesty with a dash of kindness. It sounded more gentle, and while not sugar-coating, it focused more on the progress made and the best parts of myself instead of on the worst.
The weird thing about looking at yourself with compassion instead of judgment is that it’s actually more motivating than being hard on yourself. When you’re just a little nicer to your own body, it sort of translates into actually wanting to make it healthier and stronger. When I’m mean to myself, it breaks me down. It makes me lose all faith in my ability to make good choices. It makes me feel like I’m already fat anyway, so why bother trying to make a difference? Motivating yourself to do something healthy, like go to the gym, is a lot harder when you hate your body. That resentment doesn’t translate well. There have been times where I’ve been on a treadmill, consumed with frustration about the way my thighs were jiggling, and gotten off in tears. That isn’t helpful. That’s dangerous.
I’m not trying to give anyone advice here in regard to, like, body image. I’m not a personal trainer or an Instagram model with a nice ass. All I’m saying, crazy as it sounds, is that I looked at my naked ass in a dressing room mirror at the mall, and I saw the stretch marks, but I didn’t dwell on them. I thought, “It’s okay.” And I thought, “look how much more muscular your legs are than they were six months ago.” And most importantly, I thought “nice tits.”
A girl’s gotta give herself a little love every now and again..
Image via Shutterstock
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Rory Gilmore
Rory Gilmore on the outside. Emily Gilmore on the inside. Email me funny shit at rory_gilmore20@yahoo.com.
@rory_gilmore20
I was once in a store trying on dresses in this awful 360* mirrored room and happened to not be wearing underpants that day (laundry day, I only wish I were slutty enough to pull this move on the reg) and bent over to grab something on the floor and looked up and saw my own asshole. I’m still emotionally scared. I by no means am promoting bleaching because #feminism or something but I get why that industry exists.
Anyway title of the article brought back some repressed memories, so thanks for that.
Sup? I think?
TBH I don’t even know how to respond to that story. #ButtStuffOnlyInTheDark?
“Looked up and saw my own asshole” made me crack the fuck up. Well done
Just added some Van Morrison to my playlist. Thanks for that!
Actually laughed out loud at my desk.
Also I like how an attractive girl can catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror and only see flaws, while a dumpy overweight hairy dude will suck it in and flex and think to himself how godly he is, and how he maybe needs to lose 5lbs and he’ll be a hard 10.
I too do not understand the differences men and women see in the same plate of glass. I can stand in there, thinking much of the same thoughts and be like “Yeah, you’re a little hairy, and yeah, you could’ve developed more, but let’s take this pony to the track”. Mrs Bogey on the other hand can come out looking like she’s ready for the cover of Vogue and “hate everything”.
Love this piece Rory. This mindset can also translate into other aspects of your life besides your physical image, and can really assist in overall self improvement.
I wasn’t sure how this article was going to go, but it was really well put. Thanks for that motivation this morning.
Thought it would be negative based on the headline, but loved it. May we all see improvement and positivity instead of the negatives in life.
I read this article on my work computer so I too like to live life on the edge.
Good Article.
Yaaass! When you think about how much money, energy, and thought power goes into communicating to us that our bodies are not good enough, you realize how powerful it is to simply accept yourself and ignore the nonsense.
These articles are so important because think of how many times in a day women are subconsciously called upon to assess their bodies using a standard that is not their own and is not rooted in compassion. There needs to be more things that call upon women to put their middle finger up and appreciate their thighs and ass under the hellish lights of a Nordstrom dressing room. Thank you for this.
It’s the awful fluorescent lighting most dressing rooms have. Go take a look at yourself in a Victoria’s Secret room. That lighting is literally designed to make you look your best while you’re standing there in bras and underwear.
YES I too have noticed the wonderful soft lighting in VS! Now if I can just figure out how to mimic it in my entire home…
Thank you for this very honest piece about something we all deal with at some point! I think the ability to be “body neutral” and compassionate is even more empowering than “body positivity”. We don’t have to keep telling ourselves to feel good about our perceived flaws and that everything is fine and perfect and everyone is beautiful, because no one really believes that anyway. It’s nice to be able give yourself the space to be able to say, “Actually I do hate this part. But it’s not the end of the world and there are way more important things about me. And my thighs do not matter that much in the grand scheme of anything!”