I Covered My Mirrors and Learned This One Thing

A few months ago, I wrote about how my body was changing and I didn’t know how to deal. Today, on January 7th, I can confidently say that I’m still in the same boat. However, I did get off Zoloft and am trying my hand at Prozac now. 

The worst part about medication weight gain is that it’s entirely unwarranted. I didn’t allow for scars to mark my body or for once-oversized clothes to feel snug. All I allowed for was a quieter brain. 

And what’s ironic is that my brain has since latched onto the loudness of my body’s features. There is no such thing as quiet anymore. Which is entirely fitting as I sit writing this at my aunt’s house because the apartment above mine is under construction. Loud is an understatement.

Another thing that’s different since the last time I wrote about my body is that the mirrors in my bedroom are now covered. A body neutrality practice, covering my mirrors has removed the impulse to “check” my body. 

I no longer have the urge to look at my body and critique it. I can walk by my full-length mirror without checking my side profile. And I can put on clothes with the intention of seeing how they feel vs. how they look. 

It’s been a freeing experience, at least in my bedroom—my safe space from body hatred. This isn’t to say I don’t sometimes check my body in another room or look at how my clothes hug my hips in the mirror at work. But for the most part, I am free. 

It’s interesting though, this intentional dismissal of my body. While I think the benefits of covering my mirrors outweighs the alternative, it makes me sad that I can’t be trusted to pass a mirror without finding something I don’t like about my body. 

Is that society in my head? Is it a relative’s voice? Or, do I really think so poorly about larger bodies, even when (and especially when) they are my own? The answer is probably somewhere in the middle. 

No matter the reason for this checking, judging, and spiraling routine, one thing is for sure. My body is still a part of me whether I look at it or not. 

I think I’ve misunderstood body neutrality as ignoring my body. In not wanting to feel positively or negatively about it, I’ve disregarded its irrevocable place in my day-to-day life. I mean hell, everyday I feed it. I move it. I get through life by way of it. 

I can’t escape my body by covering my mirrors. It’s here all the time and if I’d be so lucky, it’s not going anywhere. 

My relationship with my body is complicated, like the situationship status you put on Facebook. I can recognize how it’s betrayed me, while having deep compassion for it. I can wish it would stop growing and appreciate all it does for me. 

Above all, I can really fucking hate my body and really fucking love it. 

Covering my mirrors doesn’t change the fact that I only have one option when it comes to my body…to accept it. Avoiding my body won’t will the rolls away. And neither will checking my body.

So, what’s left?

Unconditional love. Radical acceptance. Gratitude. A perspective shift. Remembering that I am more than my body.

I don’t know if I will keep my mirrors covered, but if the trend continues, I’ll probably update you on that in a few months. For now, I can acknowledge that not having so much negative self-talk is helpful. 

But I’m going to work on respecting my body as the part of myself that it is. I’m not dismissing it as a form of punishment, but rather as a form of self-love. And that’s really all I can ask from myself—for every decision I make to be out of self-love.