Body Dismorphic Disorder

Body Dismorphic Disorder

Mirror Mirror on the wall&;#8230;.

Your head is awash with worry, your breathing is rapid and you
uncontrollably shake all over. You see black spots in your eyes as the
oxygen drains from your panicked brain. Your senses are alert; you hear
every pounding heartbeat and every throbbing pulse.

While your eyes are at one end of the room, your head has turned the
other way. Hours have passed, you once felt calm, knowing, thinking you
had enough time. There's never enough time.

You have a constant roll of film playing in your mind displaying every
content in your wardrobe, and when your eventually feel you've found
something your semi happy with, you close your eyes, and with each
batter of an eye lid, you see the negative of this film imprinted in
your sockets, your inner lids and the tunnel you look through each and
every day.

Your room looks like it's been through the wars, clothes of all
description lie over and above, under and beside everything that sits
in its path.

A slight dent in the knee of those trousers still there as you try them
on again. Drawers bulging and cupboards over flow with garments yet you
feel you have nothing to wear. The reflection in the mirror becomes
hazy and distorted as your image flickers from beauty to the beast. You
don't see what everyone else sees. You're showered with beautiful
sincere comments from all walks of life. Yet when you look in that
mirror, you see a grotesque, revolting repulsive beast. Your mind
projects these horrifying images; difficult is an understatement, to
shift your thoughts and feelings, to see what's real. What always stay
true real are your eyes, they never lie. Sunk and deeply saddened, they
sparkle no more and even when you pull a smile, they remain dead.

Your hair has been groomed more times than those show dogs on Crufts.
You were a mask of make-up hiding the genuine you. No feel of
satisfaction, you carry your touch up bag, you feel the sense of
security knowing it's near, your cosmetic lifeline.

Black tears have fallen staining your face and clothes. All your effort
and hard work ends up in nothing. Frustrated and angry, your heart
sunken and depressed. Restrained from going out into society for fear
your mask isn't quite perfect.

You have a list as long as the Great Wall of China. Naming all your
flaws from the tip of your toenail to the very last strand of your
hair. You pester each thinking cell on how to rectify the disgusting
flaws; irreparable is the only though that springs to mind.

That one tiny little feature you once thought wasn't so hideous, has
now disappeared, like a cloudy sheet it covers your eyes, blinding you
of what's the truth.

Now what should you do to get rid of the beast. Hid behind more paint
and worthless garments, or look into that mirror and face the demon
that has distorted your mind. Like a baby making the long and
struggling journey out of its mother womb, I fight my way to the
surface. The surface of my soul in my eyes where the real me is. The
tunnel is in the near distance, will I ever reach my destiny. Will I
ever break through? As I continue to look evil in the face through the
blasted mirror, a sparkle glimmers in my eye. Can this be, is this the
real me? I take one last finale stare at the horrid beast, and
gradually like a flower in bloom, I blossom into the fairy princess I
always dreamed of as a child. Skin so pure and teeth of snow white.
Eyes that would melt even the coldest of hearts. A natural hint of rose
warms upon my skin as I smile lovingly at my reflection. At last I have
found the real me. A stream of calm and contentment flows through my
mind and round my body. Unadulterated peace and harmony through and
through. Like an ever-flowing circle it stays that way.

The beast has now died and the beauty lives on forever, deep within
me&;#8230;