Maybe Someone Switched my Mirror

I weigh 120 lbs. I weighed that much a year ago, and two years ago, and three years ago. The difference, however, is that for the first time, I don't shudder at my reflection in the mirror anymore. I don't see areas on my body that are vastly disproportional and feel an overwhelming need to get on the Stairmaster, something I felt from the time I was 16--and the exact weight and height that I am today. Instead, I catch a quick glance in the mirror before I head to work and think, hey, I guess I look pretty good. Sometimes I even think I have pretty nice legs!

Women always talk about waking up one morning and suddenly feeling comfortable in their skin. For me, I thought that'd never be the case. The quintessential Virgo, I secretly wish to be perfect in every way and that manifests itself in a commitment to physical fitness, political correctness, and mild, smiling responses to even the most unpleasant mothafuckin-sons-of-bitches.

I can't put my finger on it, but I feel that I am quickly becoming OK, even happy, with myself. Even though I'm living in L.A.-land now, where my regular size-4 frame, which is small by most standards, will never get me into show business unless I have an aerodynamic ass to show for it, I'm satisfied with the way I look. Maybe my expectations are lower, or my weight has re-distributed, or my new obsession with veggies has blasted some of my body fat percentage, or the paint fumes in my apartment are making me high. Or maybe I'm just growing up and away from the distorted body image that many young women, all over the world, who are exposed to any sort of mainstream media, develop. That must be it. :)