THE LIE IN THE MIRROR

THE LIE IN THE MIRROR

I can think of a hundred reasons why I once rejected the image staring back at me in the mirror.

Maybe it was the rejection I felt from my grandmother. Maybe it was the teasing from kids my age. Maybe it was the trauma of being molested. I could list many perpetrators who helped shape the low opinion I once held of myself.

And let’s be real — this world is full of body shamers.

Growing up, I didn’t see many reflections of Black beauty in the media. And I definitely didn’t see any fluffy girls in magazines with captions saying, “Be like this.” I remember Pam Grier being one of the few curvy women celebrated, and that was rare. (Yeah, I know I’m dating myself. Half of this generation probably doesn’t even know who Pam Grier is.)

Back then, being overweight — hell, being fat — was practically a sin. Big butts, thick thighs, full lips? Those weren’t things to be admired. The standard was skinny, pale, and flat — like walking hangers. And now? Some of the same features we were mocked for are being purchased. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when I learned what a BBL was. Women buying bigger butts? Man, I could’ve sold them some of mine!

Let’s talk about hair. These days, it comes in every color, length, and texture — overnight. No more “nappy-headed” slurs without pushback. Black features that were once ridiculed — our noses, our lips, our skin — are now “trendy” thanks to surgery, filters, and influencers.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Society decides what’s beautiful and what’s not — and we let it. We chase trends like they're truth. And while we chase, we ignore the damage being done, especially to our youth who mimic everything social media feeds them. If it’s trending on TikTok, then it must be real. If we’re not trending, we’re invisible.

And it’s not just the young folks. Grown women and men are caught in it too.

Every time I see a full-figured entertainer who seems to stand proudly in their truth, they’re soon mocked, bullied, or pressured into shrinking. I remember when Lizzo came on the scene — bold, full, and unapologetic. I cheered her on. But even she eventually gave in to the industry's idea of "better." Monique used to crack jokes about skinny girls and praise her own fluffiness. Then she found a man, and next thing you know, she joined the “Look at the New Me” club.

And Oprah? Lord. She and I have been on the same weight-loss roller coaster for years. You’d think, with all her money, she'd be immune. But nope — body image is still her kryptonite.

Women are literally dying trying to fit society's mold — through surgery, implants, injections, diets. It’s like we don’t believe that our Creator got it right. And then society blames us for our bodies: “Just stop eating so much. ”Get in the gym. ”Try this new fad diet. ”Get the surgery. ”Suck it out, girl.”

The message is loud and clear: YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

But you know what I love about these new-age babies? Some of them don’t care. They’ll show up to the White House in pajamas, a du-rag, and slippers. Hanging out, hanging over, just living life. And our generation? We clutch our pearls, turn up our noses, and call it "inappropriate." We keep passing down the same old judgment.

Back in the day, everything had to be pinned up. Girls wore slips under their dresses. Skirts to the ankles. Boys had belts, shined shoes, fresh cuts. On the outside, we were put together. But behind closed doors? Many were living with unspeakable pain. The same church folks quoting, “You are fearfully and wonderfully made,” didn’t even believe it themselves.

How many women can stand flat-footed in the mirror and honestly love what they see?

I’ll wait.

Most of us see dimples, stretch marks, pooch pockets, sagging breasts, Santa bellies, extra skin, dark circles, funny-shaped heads, pudgy noses, big foreheads. Thick lips. Flaws.

We don’t see what God sees. We see what the world told us to see. We see our trauma, our pain, our brokenness. And it makes us question whether we’re worthy. Whether we’re lovable. Whether we matter.

But I’ve come a long way. There was a time when I avoided mirrors. Now? Some days, I can’t stay away from them. My phone is full of pictures of me.

You know why?

Because I want to believe what God believes about me.

That’s my daily goal. It hasn’t been easy — it’s a slow, ongoing process. But I refuse to let the world define my beauty or my worth. I decide that.

My friends say I’m an original. I dress different. I walk different. I am different. And I love it.

I relish the skin I’m in. There’s only one me — God made sure of that. And no one can do “me” better than me.