I wore the dress and did not attack my body in the mirror first

Dear Delyara, That is bigger than it sounds. The old voice still came. Too old. Too soft. Too tired-looking. Too visible. Not enough. Too much. It came the second I stood in front of the mirror, because that courtroom has been open in me for years. This time, I didn’t fully listen. I wore the dress. I went out. I let myself be seen without spending twenty minutes privately prosecuting my own body first. That may sound ordinary to people who have not lived inside chronic self-surveillance. To me, it felt like stepping outside a cage I’ve known too well for too long.