Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered who that is looking back at you?
I have.
It’s not fun.

I’ve done it today.

I caught a glimpse of myself as I walked by, and it caught my attention…

Who is that?
Is that me?
Seriously?

Why do I look like that?

My skin’s terrible… so dry, red and patchy. It feels tight and dry.
It’s not normal, not for me. I always had great skin, I never even had teen acne (go me!) but now I feel like I belong in the bottom of the Black Lagoon…
My eyes have dark circles under them, my skin, always pale, but now pallid.
I look drained.
The psoriasis definitely doesn’t help… where did that even come from?

But more than just my skin, there’s the rest of me…

The thing that ate me… I’m huge.
Bigger than I realised, bigger than I ever wanted to be.

It’s not good… how much time I spend tucking myself in, pulling clothes up or down to hide myself… finding the longer shirt, the looser hoody, the higher waisted jeans, the next thing to pile on to hide all the crap. The lumps and bumps, rolls and folds.
All the stuff I try to ignore every day, as I keep going.

I can’t ignore it though.

It’s there all day, every day.
I feel it as I layer clothes on top of it,
I carry it around every day

The tightness and aching in my limbs
The breathlessness as I climb the stairs
The headaches and tiredness
The killer migraines
The heaviness in my stomach that feels like a clogged up garbage disposal
All the things
The small reminders

Just keep going…

The sugar cravings, even though I don’t really want it.
The headaches that come if the cravings aren’t satiated
Feeling like I just need to sleep for 5 minutes 2 hours after waking up

That knot of guilt in my chest as I think about the gym workouts I used to do… how I used to go running, enjoy the breeze on my face, the gentle rhythm of my hair swinging side to side… the stretch in my stride, strength through my body.
How the resistance of weights felt as I pushed against them and the ever so slight changes they created in me… always better, always stronger.
My body shaping and sculpting to it’s best form, the hyper mobility of my joints less painful, more controlled.
The alignment of my spine, neck and shoulders… my natural posture, standing tall, strong.

My external strength matching and testing my internal strength.

The don’t fuck with me attitude was matched in all areas of my life.

I’ve never had an “ideal weight” I just wanted to be my best self.
What’s wrong with that?
Who else am I supposed to be?

I’m not supposed to be whoever that is looking back at me in the mirror.

That person is a stranger to me.

But behind that, beneath that, I see me…
The glint in my eye, the awareness from within that I’m still in there, just waiting to come out.

I’ve been laying in waiting, letting the world have it’s way with me until I was ready to have my way with the world…
Maybe now it’s time.
Maybe it’s past time, and I’m itching to break free from the shackles I put myself in

Maybe?
No.
It’s time.

Is it your time?

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