Facing face

Every time I look in the mirror there you are; a familiar reflection that feels so unfamiliar. Our bodies are merely temporary, they are never the same for too long - always changing, growing, ageing. We constantly have to adjust to the person we see in the mirror and so often critique ourselves and pull apart our every insecurity until we are nothing more than painted works of flawed art. And for what? Why do I compare myself to people that will never be, nor know what it is like to be me? It certainly does not make me feel any better about my life and the face that I see it through. 

I watched a performance by Dawn French the other week and something about it really struck a chord with me. She talked about her body and the parts that it is made up of. Despite pointing out what could be seen as flaws, she identified with their function, their uses, and their stories. Our bodies are covered in stories, a million woven in to one patchwork quilt of skin, flesh, and bone. Bodies are wonderful things that do so much. When I look in the mirror, I'm too quick to judge myself. At first glance I see the unappealing aesthetic rather than the way that each part works together to get me through each and every day.

I am my own worst critic. I look in the mirror and see the expressionless and unsymmetrical thing that is my face. But it's my face, and I'm slowly learning to love its quirks and differences. I used to want to be 'normal', and just to fit in (you can read more about this here). In reality though, no face is the same as the next. No smile is identical. 

I've been judged all my life for my face, and I have judged myself. But do you know what, it's mine and I think I love it. It tells a story of hope, courage, and strength. It tells my story.