I didn't have a full length mirror in my home for many, many years. My body was split up into what I could fit in the bathroom mirror when standing as far back as possible or, what I could capture with a compact one, scanning myself up down like I was checking for radiation. To see my body in it's entirety was a novelty and rarely pleasurable. It felt separate and disobedient, consistently presenting something that wasn't quite the right shape or density. Don't. Look. Down. I
As someone who, until a few years ago, was typically placid and agreeable, I imagined that I could 'go with the flow'. But, as I considered the the twinge of discomfort I felt whenever plans would change last minute, or if something got in the way of my routines, it became apparent that maybe I was change-averse. I plodded along, avoiding change where possible for years and, as a result, was unhappy. Not desperately so, just enough to provide a background noise of discontent.
I took a deep breath, buried my face in the pillow and screamed. What I thought would be a guttural roar came out as the pained cry of a wounded animal. It was years of anger coated in sadness and disappointment. I had been ignoring it, suppressing it, storing it in my body until it felt convenient to release it. It had been waiting impatiently for me to acknowledge it. Sending signals of skin flare-ups and teeth grinding in my sleep. What had paved the way for this release?
You're hoping to return it because it's faulty, not at all what you expected, quite disappointing really. You've looked at it and there are bits missing, in fact, it doesn't fit you at all. It looked perfectly fine beforehand. You were ready for it, perhaps assuming it would be similar to the 2019 model. Not amazing, but relatively predictable and something you could perhaps just leave in the background whilst you did the same things in the same ways you always had. But this