Mirrors and I had a complicated relationship. It was mostly me glaring at them, and them silently reflecting back all the “imperfections” I’d meticulously cataloged since puberty. Pores the size of craters? Check. Asymmetrical eyebrows plotting world domination? Double check. Then, I stumbled upon a “mirror trick” that sounded suspiciously like woo-woo nonsense, but desperation breeds experimentation.
The trick? Change the lighting. Seriously. For years, I was scrutinizing myself under the harsh glare of bathroom fluorescents, the kind that could make a supermodel look like they hadn’t slept in a week. I swapped it for warm, soft light. Suddenly, those “craters” softened, the eyebrow asymmetry became less dramatic, and I didn’t look like I was starring in a zombie film.
But the real magic wasn’t just the flattering light. It was the realization that lighting matters. We’re so quick to judge ourselves under the worst possible conditions, magnifying every perceived flaw. This simple trick was a metaphor. It taught me to look at myself with a softer, kinder light, both literally and figuratively. It didn’t erase my flaws, but it stopped them from being the only thing I saw. Now, I still have “flaws,” but they’re bathed in a much nicer glow, and honestly, they don’t seem so bad after all. Turns out, self-love might just need a dimmer switch.