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Standing before the mirror, the blanket slowly slides off of my shoulders, and falls onto the floor at my feet. With close attention, I survey every curve in the reflection, mindful of the slightest hint of negativity that may penetrate my thoughts. I silently acknowledge that the image in front of me isn’t a duplicate of ones I’ve seen grace the pages of a magazine. And, although in the past I would have allowed that type of information to lessen the value I placed on myself, today it passes with quiet acceptance. I lightly brush the hair away from my face, and stare directly into my own blue eyes, to be confronted with a woman whose personality has somehow risen from self-conscious to self-confident. Without knowing precisely when or how the rewarding change had occurred, I am absolutely relieved that it has. I shiver and run my hands over my body to guard against the cold air before walking over and closing the window. Thoughts race through my head as I return to my position in front of the glass, more inspecting what's on the inside as opposed to out. I am briefly reintroduced to the feelings of emptiness when I remember how little my own opinion use to matter to me, relying solely on other’s convictions. I now know to become the object of perfection to a single person is impossible, and that attempting to model perfection for everyone I came in contact with was nothing short of self-destruction. I frown and lower my gaze, as I think about how every day, with each encounter, I let my desire to be accepted outweigh the need to be true to myself. The feelings of inadequacy were suffocating. Again I lift my head, now directing my focus on the present instead of the past. As I look at myself, I am filled with appreciation for who I am. I leave behind the heavy disappointment that accompanied longing to be someone else. I smile at myself, and pull the blanket back over my naked body, as I realize that Playboy just doesn’t know what they’re missing.
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