Now I look in the mirror and see a body that’s lived. Its only purpose is to keep me alive, and it’s done a damn good job. Sure, there are still things I am self-conscious of, but for the most part, I’m good. I’ve found happiness and passion in life because the value of my appearance doesn’t hold quite the same grip on my self-worth it used to.
I see a girl with lines beside her dark blue eyes, evidence of laughter and smiles. My curled blonde hair has grown out past my shoulders. Tattoos that wrap across my body from one wrist to the other that each bring back fond memories. I’m happy and healthy because I no longer feel the need to cycle through bingeing and starving myself. My body has kept me alive. That’s all I really need it to do.
I finish getting ready with the rest of the girls and inspect myself with the same critical eye from my childhood. But this time, I’m armored in shiny fabric, Pleasers, and eyeliner that can kill.
At the doorway to the main floor, I take a deep breath and put my mask in place. The façade that shows no weakness. My true self sits behind it, and it’s a comfort to know not everyone gets to see everything. It’s a relief knowing I get to keep the most intimate parts of myself close.
I haven’t always done this. I’ve lived most of my life with my heart on my sleeve. I’ve subjected myself to the needs and desires of others, putting them ahead of my own.
Armor in place, I’m ready to head out to the floor to deal with yet another mess.
Goddess, save us from drunk men.