I Love Me

Content warning: body image issues

Months passed since he packed his bags and left her, yet the walls of the house they once shared were still dull and lifeless, reflecting how Arya felt inside. Their relationship started in the ninth grade and ended at the age of twenty two. Arya only knew who she was within that relationship and now that it was over, her sense of who she was vanished. 

Her tears stopped falling long ago, but the ghost of their streams left permanent marks on her cheeks. Across from her bed, propped up against the wall, was a large Victorian style mirror with a gold frame. Sometimes she covered the mirror with an old bed sheet because she couldn’t bear to watch herself waste away. But today wasn’t one of those days. Arya wanted to look at herself and everything she’s become. She let out a wobbly breath as she ran a hand down her face. Perhaps she thought she could rub away the bags underneath her eyes, but as she refocused her attention on herself she realized the bags were now a permanent mark on her, like the tattoo hidden beneath her over-sized sweater. 

The large garment was something she wore religiously, refusing to wash it or take it off. It smelt of depression and stale body odour, but Arya couldn't find the strength to care. It was like a second skin that sagged far too loosely on her, covering up the weight loss she experienced in the past couple months. Her body ached as she crawled out of bed, padding over to her dresser. Her small hands reached for a half-empty box of matches. She held it between her two fingers, jiggling the contents inside before sliding it open. She fiddled with a singular match, twirling it in her fingers before striking it against the side of the box. A beautiful flame erupted, starting off large and gradually shrinking in size. Shakily, she brought the match to the candlewick, watching as the flame transferred from point A to point B. She blew out the match before letting it drop in her overflowing garbage can.

She resumed her position on her bed, but this time the soft glow from the candle illuminated her colourless face. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she examined her surroundings. Week-old plates and cups were scattered around her room, some forming mold and others not. Clothes begging to be washed were kicked underneath her bed with the promise to be cleaned soon, but of course, that promise was a lie. The plants she once cherished were shriveled up and brown in colour with dead leaves sprinkled around the pot. 

She couldn’t help but to wonder if this, all the rotting, death, and staleness, was an accurate representation of what love was. She read all the novels as a kid. The ones that showed the princess falling in love with her prince charming and them living happily ever after. But as Arya clenched her chest, feeling the dull and persistent ache grow and intensify, she told herself this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the love she romanticized as a child. 

A stray, lone tear rolled down her cheek, leaving a salty trail in its path as she studied herself. Where was the girl that couldn’t stop smiling? What happened to the warm and fuzzy feeling in her chest, the contentment with herself, the peace in her mind? Where did it all go? Did she really value and care for herself based on the love from a man? 

Another tear rolled down her cheek as her other arm crossed the one clenching her chest, enveloping herself in a sad hug. A sob wracked her scrawny body as she felt her sharp shoulders underneath her palms. This wasn’t the Arya she knew. She wasn’t herself… Not that she knew who she truly was from the beginning though. But it was killing her to sit and watch as she hit her mental, physical, and emotional rock bottom. 

She had nobody. All her friends she acquired during her relationship disappeared one by one until there were only a couple left. But, slowly she stopped answering texts and in return, the texts stopped coming in. The helpless feeling in her chest was an ever-growing black hole, multiplying by the minute, swallowing her whole until there was nothing but the feeling left. 

She let out a guttural mixture between a groan and a scream as she tightened her grip on her body, desperately trying to mimic the love, warmth, and comfort she was once given. She felt crushed as the needy hug she gave herself didn’t feel like the one he once gave her. Her crying turned into soft breaths as she let go of herself, letting her arms drop to her side.

 Arya looked in the mirror once again. At that moment in time, after allowing herself to feel everything she needed to feel, she truly saw herself for what she was in that moment. A mess. Her eyes trailed to the tangled mess her curls were. An unhurried hand reached up to grab a singular, in-tact curl. She caught the eyes of another person in the mirror when she looked a second time. It should have scared her, but for some odd reason, Arya wasn’t alarmed in the slightest. 

“Fix it,” The woman in the mirror said with a voice as sweet as honey. The girl in the mirror was the raw definition of beauty. She had big, dark brown eyes filled with warm, golden hues swirling around in them. Her curls sat just above her collarbone, completely natural and untamed. The bronze glow to her dark brown skin left Arya breathless. Her smile projected nothing but kindness. She had a soft, comforting aura in comparison to the dark, gloomy one Arya had. For lack of better words, this woman was everything Arya was not. “Wet it. Comb it.” 

Arya glanced to her dresser, where her spray bottle filled with water and her wide-tooth comb was. She got up to get it, quickly returning to the mirror to stare at herself. The woman was pleased with an encouraging look on her delicate face. Arya flinched away from the cool water coming from the spray bottle. As water droplets fell on her sweater, she contemplated stopping. A nagging voice in the back of her head told her it would be easier to just lay back down and do it later. 

“C’mon Arya. Let me see those beautiful curls,” the woman cooed as she placed a comforting hand on Arya’s shoulder. Arya sighed, spraying more water into her dark curls. Reluctantly, she brought the comb up to the ends, and began the journey of detangling her curls. By the time she was done, her fingers were sore and a lump of dark, knotted hair sat next to her, reminding her of how long she neglected her hair. 

“They’re so beautiful Arya,” the woman purred. Arya brought up a hand to her hair, stretching out her curls, watching as they bounced back into place. “These curls are a gift to you from your parents. Cherish them.” 

Arya nodded, savouring the soft, wet feeling of her curls between her fingers. They were tight, coily, thick and wild with life. The hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she let the last piece of hair in her hand fall to her shoulder as she thought of the man and woman who raised her. Deep down she knew the beautiful woman in the mirror was right. Her hair was a gift from her parents. It was to be cherished and taken care of. 

“Now, look at your skin,” the woman encouraged. Arya’s eyes wandered all across her body, from her face to her hands to her ankles. “This shade of Black is a gift from Africa, from your ancestors, who fought to be equal and liberated. You come from greatness and your skin is proof. Be proud.” 

Arya dragged a hand across the skin of her cheek tenderly, embracing the warmth that flooded her senses. She let out a deep breath, thinking about where her origins were from, the people who paved the way for her to be a free Black woman, and the people who may come after her and continue to fight for her people. Her skin was something to be proud of. Something to let shine and glow. She felt guilty, and almost silly, for neglecting it. A giggle escaped from her plump lips, another trait given to her from her people, as she swiped her other hand across her cheek. She admired the melanin in her skin, even the spots with hyper-pigmentation. She welcomed every acne scar, mole and imperfection, and by doing that, a weight was lifted off her chest. 

“Now, why don’t you clean yourself off. And if you’re feeling up to it, wash your hair?” the woman suggested, to which Arya listened. She stripped down and avoided all the mirrors until she got to the shower. She stayed in there for a half hour to wash her body and hair, being sure to do the job properly and with love. When she stepped out of the shower, she felt as if her head was in a cloud of relaxation as the steam and heat tumbled off of her body in waves. 

Arya tiptoed back into her bedroom, the only sound being the soft splatters of water dripping from her hair onto the floor. Once again, she found herself standing in front of the mirror. Her hands clutched the white towel closer to her skinny body as she felt the familiar soft and comforting aura of the woman in the mirror. Arya gulped nervously as the woman pointed to the last clean articles of clothing Arya had left. Arya  dressed herself in a white tank top and black biker shorts, shivering as the cool air in her room hit her bare flesh. 

There she stood, for the second time, in front of the Victorian style mirror. Her face scrunched together as she examined her body, watching as the warm glow from the candle flickered across her skin. She felt sick to her stomach as she looked at how bony she became. She lacked any shape or curves, and for some reason, that made her feel like less of a woman. Arya glanced at the woman in the mirror, studying the shape of her. The woman wasn’t curvaceous but she looked healthy and comfortable in her body. Arya couldn’t shake the envy bubbling in her stomach as the woman smiled. 

“Your body is so uniquely beautiful, Arya,” the woman complimented, but for a moment Arya thought the woman might’ve been teasing her. “It’s the only one you get so, I think it’s about time you be nice to your body.”

Arya furrowed her brows as she examined her body, trying to find something she liked. She let out a sigh of annoyance as she began to turn away, but the woman’s voice stopped her. “If it’s not a physical attribute you can be positive about, then find a function it performs to be positive about.”

Arya nodded, thinking of all the things her body did for her. Her mind wandered from playing soccer as a child to tasting the pasta in Italy during her senior year trip with her high school friends. She thought about the long nights working and the even longer nights in the club. The woman nodded approvingly as Arya began to feel a bit better about her body. Of course, the physical attributes would take time, but for now, Arya was content with being grateful for the functions her body does. 

“Love yourself, Arya.” 

Arya scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s easy for you to say,” she whispered to the woman in the mirror. “You’re everything I’m not.”

The woman in the mirror chuckled, the sound being music to Arya’s ears. “Now, don’t we sound silly?” 

“Wh-a? We?” 

“Yes, of course. I am you. You are me. We are the same person. So, why don’t we just love ourselves and the body that we’re in?” 

Tears pooled in Arya’s dark brown eyes. The same eyes she shared with the woman in the mirror, the ones with golden hues swirling around in them. She couldn’t believe the woman she was jealous of was her. “Say it with me, Arya. I love me.” 

Arya brought a hand up to her lip, nervously picking at the flesh. She wanted to say the words, but as she opened her mouth to say it, nothing came out. Her bottom lip quivered as the woman in the mirror wrapped her arms around Arya, embracing her in a much needed a hug. This hug was like the one given to her from her ex, but it felt better and more fulfilling in so many more ways. 

“Say it.” 

Arya cried quietly as she gripped the woman's arms⎯ her own arms, hoping this hug would last forever. As she examined the scene before her, she realized something. Arya realized that she could be her own prince charming. She realized she could love herself, and that she was all she needed. 

“I love me,” Arya mumbled as her heart began to fill from the love she was giving herself. Although Arya couldn’t say she was entirely head over heels with herself, she could definitely say she was working towards it.