Beyond the Mirror

There is something I need to say — something that has lived inside me for years, something that has often been silenced by the noise of judgment and cruel words. I have been told repeatedly that I should change who I am: lose weight, take pills, follow the latest diet, and shrink myself so I can finally be “noticed.”

I have been told that my body is not good enough, that the softness of my stomach makes me unworthy of love, and that my dreams will never matter until I fit into a certain image of “perfect.”

But here’s the truth: I refuse to believe that anymore.

My dream has never been to be slim just to please others. My dream is to be a singer. My passion has always been in my voice — not in my waistline. Yes, some women enjoy fitness and dieting. Some find joy in being slim, and that is perfectly fine. But it does not mean that every woman must conform to the same mold in order to be valued. We are not identical copies. We are individuals, each with our own story, our own body, and our own worth.

My body tells a story of its own. I have carried children. I have carried pain. I fractured a bone during pregnancy that never healed perfectly. My stomach will never look like it once did, and that is okay. These marks are not flaws. They are reminders that I lived, that I gave life, that I endured. I do not need an expensive surgery to erase them, and I do not need anyone’s permission to exist as I am.

We all have features the world calls “imperfections.” But I do not see them that way. I call them proof of being human. The truth is, nobody is perfect, and yet we are constantly told by society, media, and sometimes even people close to us that we should be. In magazines and on screens, we see only one version of beauty — slim, flawless, and polished. But real life is not like that. Real life is messy, imperfect, and beautifully diverse.

Talent has nothing to do with size. Singing lives in the voice. Dancing lives in rhythm and passion. Acting lives in charisma, emotion, and expression. None of these things can be measured by a scale. A person can shine on stage without fitting into the world’s narrow definition of beauty.

I know this because I have lived it.

As a child, I was bullied mercilessly. I was mocked for being sensitive, for loving to sing, and for the way my body looked — whether I was too thin or carried extra weight. I remember being called names in the classroom, in the playground, and even on my way home from school. Sometimes it wasn’t just words. Sometimes it was physical. I tried to speak up, to tell teachers, but often they brushed it aside or, worse, blamed me for standing up to my bullies.

That bullying did not end when I grew older. It followed me into adulthood. I was judged for not following fashion trends, for daring to sing everywhere I went, for being short, for gaining weight, and especially during pregnancy. Every stage of my life, there seemed to be someone ready to remind me that I wasn’t enough.

Not long ago, someone said to me once again:

“You’ll never make it as a singer. You’re too fat.”

Those words cut deeply, not just because they were cruel, but because I had already heard them a thousand times before. There was a time when those words nearly killed me. Years ago, I believed them so strongly that I no longer wanted to live. I believed I was unworthy of love, of dreams, of even existing, simply because I did not look the way society wanted me to.

I tried to disappear. I tried to give up. I thought the only way to be valued was to be thin.

It has taken me more than twenty years to fight back against that lie. And the truth is — I am still fighting. Compliments rarely feel real. When someone calls me beautiful or tells me I look good, I smile politely and say thank you, but inside I question whether they mean it. That doubt lingers, no matter how much progress I make.

But let me be clear: this is not me searching for attention. This is me, removing the mask of confidence that people think they see when they meet me.

Behind that mask is someone still healing, still learning, but still standing.

I am more than my reflection.

I always have been.

And I will not let anyone take that away from me again.