My tiny feet hit the cold tile as the bathroom fills with steam, and I struggle to surface my reflection from the build up of condensation on the mirror. My finger tips press and run against the glass, and there I stand. A crooked expression wipes across my face -- one of discontent, disappointment and aspiring dreams for what the future will hold for my reflection, and I'm left with so many questions about my body. I walk from my bathroom in a dress my mom bought that I thought would make me pretty. I hear my brothers attempt to compliment me, but they must be lying.

Now, 12 years later... My feet touch the bathmat in front of the shower as the bathroom fills with steam. My fingertips reach to the glass, but pull back quickly. I don't want another day of disappointment. I step onto my scale and hope to god maybe one more pound has been shed. No luck. I catch a text from a guy I work with throwing a compliment my way, but he must be lying.

I pull out a 2XL t-shirt from my dresser and drape it over my body, because I've convinced myself that being swallowed by my clothing is the easiest way to feel slim, petite and feminine.

I sit in my living room and shuffle through TV channels until I find 'F.R.I.E.N.D.S.', but the commercials are on. Dove's Love Your Body Campaign airs soon after a Victoria's Secret commercial slathers my mind with glimpses of what I wish I could be... only to remind me what I'm not. So I turn off the TV and head for the scale. Maybe I've gone down a couple pounds since waking up. No luck.

I decide to go grab one of my black 2XL t-shirts, because black is more slimming, and I could use all the slimming I can get at this point.

Shit. I have things to do today. I need to slather on some makeup before I go anywhere, and I can't forget to contour. I cannot. Forget. To contour. I pull out my hand mirror and stare. What the hell do I do this for? What the hell do I need this for?

I brush aside the questions. I have to look good. It's as simple as that. I have to look good under my standards. But, trust me, those standards have yet to be met. My ears are lopsided, my face is completely asymmetrical, my thighs are HUGE, my lips are too red, my hair is too short, and my waist doesn't curve inward enough.

But I continue with my day and head to Walmart to grab more low-fat greek yogurt to supplement for the actual food my body needs. I walk slowly to the sliding doors so I can catch my reflection before I walk inside. My stomach bulges a little so I suck in before passing the worker at the front of the store.

You know people tell me that since I'm a few inches shorter I have less space to store my fat. So at least someone can justify my appearance. I just cannot seem to find solace in any part of my body. I get so obsessive--- What the hell am I doing this for? Stop. Stop. Stop.

This has to stop. I know I'm not alone. I concern myself with my reflection every second of the day. This has to stop. No more.

For every single person out there, girl or boy, stop. Do not listen to yourself. Do not fool yourself into thinking you are merely worth your outer appearance. Maybe that's what society has hardwired us to do. I know its easier said than done, but just try.

Continue to press your fingers against the glass, straighten your crooked expression, embrace your flaws, and smile at your reflection.

You are not perfect. You will never be perfect. And that is what makes us beautiful.