The Real Damage Isn’t in the Mirror. It’s in the Messaging

(To listen to the recorded version of this post, click here.)

It’s interesting… even though I’ve learned a lot about how my brain works, that doesn’t mean I don’t still get tripped up by the stories it tells.

And my latest trip-up? The way I’ve been viewing my body.

Since moving back to Kansas City, I’ve been indulging, and not just in the local BBQ scene. The foodie culture here is strong, and I’ve found myself enjoying the tastes of home more than hitting the gym.

My routine changed, and so did the way I was talking to myself when I looked in the mirror.

That wasn’t cool with me.

So, I did what I always do when I’m bugged by something. I took to my journal and at the top of the page, I wrote this question…

What if my body wasn’t a problem to fix… but a sacred place to listen to, explore, and celebrate?

That question hit me right in the heart.

• How would I treat her (my body) if that were true?

• What might I see that I don’t see when I’m constantly looking for flaws or things to change?

• What impact could that shift have?

And here’s what else came up:

I’d see her as the miracle she is.

I’d feel grateful more often for how she supports and carries me through the world. And I’d definitely be kinder to her.

Because the truth is, the way I see my body today isn’t shaped by how I want to see her. What I came to realize as I was journaling was this: my view has been shaped by the old stories I picked up a long time ago. Stories from a well-meaning but critical family member. And today, stories from relentless advertising. Stories that have tied my worth to my waistline.

So, as it turns out, I’ve allowed what I heard from that critical family member all those years ago to continue to taint my view.

“You could stand to lose five pounds.”

“You’re a pretty girl, but you’re not the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Or the kicker: “Thin people are happier and more successful.”

I look back at those yearbook photos and think, Wow. I was fit. Strong. Beautiful.

But back then? I didn’t see it. I saw what I believed based on the stories I bought into. I saw a girl who could stand to lose five pounds and who wasn’t beautiful at all.

The ones that tell us sagging skin and fine lines are a one-way ticket to Social Siberia. The ads that make it clear that women like me (today) don’t get the sports car or the passionate love story. We get the cholesterol meds and weight loss drugs.

Those messages sink in deep. Not just emotionally, but neurologically.

And it all makes sense as to why my view of myself has been contorted lately. When we’re exposed to repeated messages, especially ones loaded with emotion, our brain wires them in as familiar truths. It’s called neuroplasticity. It’s the brain’s ability to change and adapt regardless of if what we’re learning is helpful or hurtful. It just strengthens what we rehearse.

The more I focused on what needed fixing, the more my brain believed that something was broken.

But what if I stopped feeding my brain those stories? What if I rewired my brain by practicing a new way of seeing myself?

I’d see her. The me that is now 58 years young.

I’d see strong legs. Maybe they can’t press 350 pounds like they used to, but they carry me powerfully through the world. They support me as I dance at concerts, stroll through art museums, and walk the local park I love so much.

I’d see a stomach that grew and gave birth to the most amazing human I know, more than 30 years ago…my son. That alone makes her sacred.

I’d see twinkling eyes that get to witness beauty daily. That have seen heartbreak and healing. That still light up when I laugh.

I’d see a face that’s aged, yes, but that has kissed, smiled, encouraged, comforted, asked thought-provoking questions, and loved deeply. A face that has lived and is still living.

And to the advertisers of the world? Well, sorry to disappoint you, but this full-figured, aging, radiant woman is not waiting for permission to enjoy her life. I’m already doing it. Fully. Joyfully. Boldly.

And to that family member? I know your comments way back then weren’t meant to harm. I know they came from your own pain, your own fear. But here’s what I’ve come to realize:

Worth doesn’t come from a smaller waistline or a tighter jawline.

It comes from a heart that listens, sees, and loves. A heart that shows up, even when it’s been hurt. A heart that knows better now, and chooses better, too.

Now when I look in the mirror, I remind myself:

I’m not something that needs to be fixed. I’m someone who’s deeply blessed.

Looking at those few extra pounds through a kinder lens hasn’t made me complacent. It’s actually inspired me to get back on my movement wagon. To take even better care of this body that has always taken care of me.

So, if you’ve ever felt ashamed of how you looked:

It’s time to stop believing those old stories, no matter where they came from.

It’s time to look deeper.

To honor the miracle that is your body and you.

To feed your brain the truth, not the lies.

To speak to yourself with kindness, respect, and love.

And to remember that you are the most beautiful person in the world.

No caveats. No conditions.