The problem with judging myself based on what I see in the mirror is that a mirror reports everything backwards.
The revelation of which is drawing me to flip my thinking.
Gray hairs signal maturity.
Extra pounds bring gratefulness for never going hungry.
My arms can hug. My feet can move. My lips can smile. My ears can hear.
My body can declare, “I am wonderfully made.“
Turns out that all along, that’s what the mirror was trying to tell me.
I was just looking at it backwards.