Stories like Teagan’s fully dehydrate my eyes every time I watch them. Until this year, I have assiduously avoided mirrors of all shapes and sizes whenever, and whereever, possible. When this approach was unavoidable, like when I was getting my hair cut, I would always cast my eyes downward for the duration, raising them only when my hairdresser announced they were finished, and that they needed me to say yea or nay. Deciding whether to shave or not was a constant dilemma: if I shaved that meant I needed to look at my face in the mirror every morning. If I didn’t, I then had to deal with the inevitable dysmorphia that facial hair produced. It was a lose-lose situation that I struggled with for decades.
I am proud to say that I can now not only look at my face in the mirror without disgust, I am able to observe and admire my changing body in a full length mirror. I even love quite a few of its parts. As time goes by, I am loving more and more of them. It’s a tricky journey, but I know at last I am heading in the right direction.