You see me differently than I see myself.

Tell me I'm beautiful

the perfect size.

but I look in the mirror and I don't see

someone stunning

or kind

or even pretty.

I see wrinkle lines and fat in the wrong places.

I see acne,

I see cellulite,

I see

"why did I get this haircut"

I see

"Why did I eat that bar of chocolate

Or that bowl of pasta

Or anything."

Almost an out of body experience that I tried to cling onto for too long.

weird.

Because some days I feel great about myself.

I feel amazing, original, unstoppable.

But others I have to leave the bathroom to brush my teeth

because I’m forced to reconcile with my tears.

My mirror transforms into my prison

My mind my body guard

The world around me the distrustful cell mates

I have gotten to the point where I have given myself the label

"at-risk-shopper",

Because I can't try on clothes

without rushing out of the dressing room

or worse,

staying.

Staring at myself hatefully surrounded by an unforgiving view of my own body and unfortunate lighting.

My prison closing in on me

The clothing I picked out for myself the shackles

Cutting into my wrists

Pointing out my flaws

I repeat affirmations

I have been told

I can train my brain to accept my body as its own.

I feel I’ve been lied to.

I've been fighting this battle since I was taught that my leotard revealed my un-ballerina like curves,

my tights barely holding in the tragedy that was me,

becoming a woman.

Slowly shrinking as drinking rock stars became my sustenance, puking my motivation.

living with severe body dysmorphia is often dismissed

But I can’t dismiss that

I don't see myself when I look in the mirror naked.

I just see extra calories and a disgusting inattention to outward appearance.

I often wonder how anyone could ever be attracted to me

There are still days that I wear tears as a face mask.

Google told me salt is good for your skin.

Something they don't tell you about being healthy:

while your body is deemed "better", "strong", or "in your weight class",

the mind heals at its own miserable rate

remaining plagued with a disease that traps you whenever you walk by a reflective glass

see, your mind is your body's greatest adventure,

but it lies, twists, and skews the truth.

It tampers with the cameras embedded in your eye sockets

Flipping the switch

translating good as bad and bad as worse:

The light is gone

hope that one day it will be fixed,

You can only hope that one day you will be fixed,

For good.