I cannot hide from it because it is always there. I cannot run because it will always follow me. It always tells me the hard, cold truth. It has no sympathy, or maybe it does, just not towards me because everytime I look at it, it confirms what everyone else tells me.

The mirror.

When I look in the mirror, this is what I see: an overweight 15-year-old girl who validates herself based on what others think of her. I hear it all the time...lose 15 pounds, maybe 20 pounds and you will see just how beautiful you can be.

Am I not beautiful now?

I know I am not skinny but I have been told true beauty is what is on the inside.

I look at myself in the mirror.

"Look at you. You will never be as pretty as your cousins. They are so tiny and you are like a bull in a china shop."

"I am happy just the way I am." I lie.

"Look at you. You probably break the scale when you step on it."

"I am trying to lose the weight." I have tried.

"Can't wear those new jeans you just bought, can you? Didn't you just go up a size? Soon the stores won't carry a size large enough to fit your large body. You are a disgrace. It isn't that hard. Just lose the weight and you will see how happy you will be."

I turn to view my profile in the mirror. I slowly lift my shirt up and watch as the ripples of fat start to hang over my jeans.

"You see what I mean. Get rid of it. Do you want people to stop laughing at you and talking behind your back? Just do it. You know an easy way to start losing the weight."

I can't do it. I've done it once before but I promised myself that I wouldn't do it again. I wouldn't get myself sick just so others would approve of my appearance. 

"Just do it. No one will love a miserable fat slob like you."

I started to cry.

It was right. I need to be better. It doesn't matter how well I do in school or if I was in every club at school. I was fat; I was overweight, fat, and an embarrassment. Everyone knew it. I'm sure they talked about me.

Now I was full on sobbing. I walked into the bathroom and locked the door. I kneeled down towards the toilet, lifted the lid, and said goodbye to my breakfast and lunch. I flushed the toilet and sat on the bathroom floor and cried.

I had let the mirror win. I had let it get to me. Why was I crying? I had promised myself that I would not settle into my old habit again, but I did.

***

I still have trouble facing my demon because I know that it will be the harshest judge of all. I have gotten better but I still cannot say that I love my body. All I can say is this: I will not let the mirror win. I am better than that. I will learn to love every part of myself. There will come a day when I feel beautiful. There will come a day where I can face my demon, look it straight in the eye and say: you do not control me and no matter what you say, I love myself and there is nothing you can do to ruin that.