behind the reflection & underneath the clothes: a discussion on perception, body dysmorphia, and coming back to our innate love for our bodies

 Growing up as a woman in our world, there has always been an emphasis on perception. On my clothes, on my body, on my makeup. The way that I look has always seemed to hold some importance in my being. As I get older and start to question these beliefs, I fall further and further from my outward appearance affecting my mood or how I feel about myself as a person. But two areas of this upbringing stick with me: mirrors and clothes. Today I want to talk about why that is and how we can continue to decouple society’s tools for viewing ourselves versus our innate inner wisdom that is created to love the person underneath the clothes and behind the reflection.

Looking in the mirror has never been something that I’ve had a good relationship with. I’ve always been terrified by the horror scenes where someone looks in a mirror and something unrecognizable stares back. If I examine my reflection for too long, it’s like I leave my body and suddenly I am looking at me, looking at me in the mirror. I can’t let it go on for too long without becoming extremely existential.

I’ve never trusted a mirror. I’ve always had the urge to see myself how others see me, which is something I know I’ll never get. I won’t happen across my own presence, or watch myself light up with joy. I will never know what it is like to experience myself as a whole, real being. I am at peace with this lack of perception, but it still seems like every mirror lies to me. It shows me as too skinny or too fat, lifeless or warped. It’s reversed and it’s an illusion anyways. So why does it have such a strong grip on my self image?

It’s no coincidence that I’ve struggled with body dysmorphia. I’ve never truly grasped what my body looks like. I’ve never truly felt at home with the reflection that looks back at me. When I have these thoughts with no clue where to go, it has been helpful for me to take the time to be there, in the moment. To touch and experience myself as I am, not how I look. To savor the feeling of my skin as I put on lotion, to hug myself tight, and finally to look at my reflection knowing that I go beyond it.

There is a similar idea in the relationship that I have with clothes. I have always found it easier to love my body when I’m naked. When I’m fresh out of the shower, or having sex, or under my blankets for the night, I can feel, see, and appreciate the beautiful intricacies of my body. My curves are cute, my proportions are perfect. My body just makes sense because it is mine.

The second I put clothes on, the beautiful curves become a hindrance for the fabric. The size of my arms doesn’t match up to the models. The proportions of my body cease to make sense. In short, the comparison starts. I begin to feel unhappy, uneasy, and resentful of my body. Whether it’s a certain squeeze, length, or tone, I start to lose sight of the beauty underneath.

These two experiences have one thing in common, and that thing is not my body. It is that they are vessels that society has made to view our bodies. And this is where the confusion and negativity lies. Diet culture and consumerism in general profit off of you feeling bad about yourself. So it makes sense that when we put on clothes that are not made for us, or when we look at a two dimensional reflection of our multi-dimensional being, we are subject to our culture’s desire for us to look for a solution. The secret is that there is no problem to start with. You underneath the clothes, you who observes your reflection, is exactly perfect just the way that you are.

So, how do we reconnect? Spend more time with yourself. If looking in the mirror is triggering for you, try to avoid it for a day. Or better yet, write down affirmations and stick them on its surface to remind yourself that you are not your reflection. You are a beautiful, intricate being that a piece of plastic, metal, and glass will never begin to show you. You are a worthy, sexy person whose clothes are meant to fit, not the other way around. We reconnect by digging deeper than the material. We reconnect by being with people we love, doing things that bring us joy, and consistently reminding ourselves of our worth. As we get closer and closer to unconditional love for ourselves, these vessels of perspective just become a spotlight on all of our beauty.