So dressing room mirrors make no sense. One would think a department store would want their clientele looking at their reflections with amazement at how flattering the garments look in the perfect lighting. Yet, the fluorescent and stark light beams down as harsh as a 13 year old girl pointing out all flaws and magnifying each bump, spot, and blemish beyond the capabilities of even the most skilled at denial.
Today, the mirrors in the fitting room at Kohl's reminded me of my shortcomings. Literally.
I know I'm not even close to average height for my age, but I love to forget... and just feel like my legs go all the way to the ground. Yet, the mirror tells no lies (except that it swears that left is right and right is left)... Also, the stupid mirror made me feel chubby... I really hate that!
All of my changes in eating patterns, every squat, lunge, push-up (albeit, the sissy kind), and every time I said "no, thanks" to cake can't be seen in this evil reflective surface. It's only a matter of time before truth becomes reality, but I will need to push every bit of willpower to the surface so I can get past this reminder that, as of now, my progress is in progress.
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