"Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all," I ask my reflection.

She replies, "Well certainly not you, do you see the dark circles under your eyes? Or those laughing lines? And please explain to me what's going on with your hair. You may need a beauty sleep.

This was a common encounter between myself and my mirror. It sometimes felt as if someone had replaced my mirror with one from a fun-house, only more high tech and realistic. I know I wasn't actually as hideous as my mirror said I was, but society has taught me beauty standards, showing me what "true beauty" looks like, and what I must do to achieve that look.

So, I began to comparing myself to these standards. I would scroll through Instagram and compare myself to the perfect, skinny, beautiful women, traveling the world and loving life. Without even thinking, I started wishing I looked more like them because, obviously, their lives were better. Right? That is how it works, I know this based on the extensive research I've conducted using Instagram. They all seemed happier.

But how often do they look in the mirror and hear the same terrible thoughts running through their minds? How often do they leave the house feeling less than fabulous?

We are all guilty, or at least have been sometime in our lives.

At some point, I hope everyone reaches the point I have reached.

Lately, I have been staring at myself in the mirror, staring at every little detail. But instead of leaning forward and finding every blemish, I see the good, the beauty that people have pointed out but I never saw.

I see my eyes, green and bright, with gold streaks leading from my pupils, bright and rich against the green.

I see my freckles, so many lightly scattered across my face, looking just like blobs covering my nose and cheeks. But I love them.

I see a smile that is crooked and bright, the way my cheeks get round under my eyes, like little balloons, and I see what a happy person looks like.

I see a beautiful person, and I know that person is me.

I stopped wearing makeup about a year ago, mostly because my eyes got really bad during allergy season, and every girl knows rubbing eyes with mascara on is not fun. It was hard at first, I was so used to seeing myself with dark, long eyelashes. All of a sudden my eyes looks naked.

But soon I started getting used to my naked face, I got used to thinking I looked fine like that, maybe a little plain, but still fine.

I don't know what changed in me, whether it was because I had gotten a boyfriend who constantly told me how beautiful I was. Or maybe it was because I moved in with my mom and she constantly told me the same thing. Whatever it was, I started believing it. And although I wasn't one of those amazing, inspiring girls who learns to love themselves on their own, but I still started to believe it. I think that is what truly matters here.

I hope every person, some time in their lives reaches this point. Reaches the "I look good" phase, and stays there. Even if they need help by hearing it from others first, or if they do it on their own, I want every person to get to this point. And the next thing your reflections will say is:

"Dang, Linda, you look fabulous."