The Sudden, Hostile Realization of My Own Reflection in the Fitting Room Mirror

Dear Delyara, I tried to buy a pair of jeans today, but the moment I stepped into the cubicle and the harsh, downward-facing halogen lights hit my body in the three-way mirror, I wanted to instantly crawl out of my own skin. I didn't recognize the shape looking back at me. The soft, slumping shoulders, the tired lines around the eyes from too many night shifts, the weight that has settled around my waist from years of cheap takeaway dinners eaten at midnight over the sink. I felt a wave of intense, physical disgust that made me drop the clothes on the bench and walk straight out of the shop. I’ve spent so much time just trying to survive the stress of my life that I’ve completely abandoned the machine that carries me. I am a prisoner inside a body that feels like a broken down car, and I don't even know how to begin the repairs.