Mirror, mirror…

So I’ve been craving some new ink for a while now. I have a few very small tattoos already, but I feel the need to get something big. However, given my current mindframe and the fact that 2015 has been an annus horribilis (for my whole family, strangely!), it’s maybe not a good idea to mark this period of my life.

And yet the idea keeps creeping around my mind like all those other things that you know won’t really make you happier but you kind of think they will anyway? You know, like those expensive shoes you’ve been eyeing or losing those extra few lbs… Materialistic stuff we spend our days thinking about, working towards, yet as soon as we’ve got it there’s something newer and seemingly better to covet. I think my urge to get inked right now is a stab at taking ownership of my body because for the first time in a very, very long time, I hate it.

I haven’t gained weight; I’m a size 8/10, I (mostly) eat well and workout several times a week. This past year/year and a half I’ve been in the best shape of my life and that hasn’t changed much, but I’ve realised that I hate looking in the mirror – at the things he used to claim to love about me.

I’ve somehow let all of my self-worth be defined by his opinion of me, which could change with his mood. I’m a smart girl, how the hell did I let that happen? And how did I not even realise it? I’ve been walking around the past 2 years feeling like a strong, sexy, confident, happy woman. I thought that’s who I was, I thought that was how I really felt. In actual fact, who I am and what I feel is conditional upon how he views me. And now that I don’t have his opinion at all, it’s like I’m nothing.

Pathetic, I know. And I know I need to learn to love myself (like I thought I did) and become my own person etc. etc… That’s all fine and good. I’m working on that and I guess I’ll get there. But I just can’t figure out how I let it happen. Before him, nobody could make me feel bad about myself. I didn’t need any man’s opinion – no matter how good it was! And he fucking broke me.

Maybe I’ll get the scariest tattoo I can find, just to keep the men away. No regrets, right?

If only…

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