Some mornings, I stare into the mirror like it’s a judgmental aunt at a family wedding, silently assessing, slightly disappointed and definitely wondering why I didn’t try harder. Other mornings, it’s worse, I am that aunt.
Welcome to the relentless pressure of unrealistic beauty standards. A world where even the slightest imperfection is considered unacceptable, where every flaw is magnified and where a woman’s worth is often measured by her appearance. It feels as though we are constantly competing with an ideal that is unattainable and the most frustrating part is that beauty is not a finish line. It’s a moving target. The moment you get close, the rules change. Now it’s fuller lips. Now it’s a tiny nose. Now it’s not just your weight but the ratio of your waist to your hips. Now it’s “natural beauty,” but only if it looks like the perfectly curated, no-makeup-makeup look that still requires a team of professionals and 90 minutes of effort.
It’s exhausting.
And here’s the part no one tells you: this fear doesn’t discriminate. It affects women across the spectrum, whether cisgender, transgender or crossdresser. That quiet, gnawing anxiety about not being “enough” is a language too many of us speak fluently. It unites us in our secret rituals of camouflage and comparison, in our longing to be accepted just as we are.
But something beautiful happens when you start looking around instead of just into the mirror. Let me tell you about my friends.
My best cis girlfriend is curvy. Yes, too curvy… and utterly fabulous. She couldn’t care less about dieting, calorie-counting or hiding her body under layers of shame. She wears bright colors, dramatic eyeliner and leopard print like she’s the main character in a glam rock musical, because she is. She loves her body as it is and watching her glow with confidence has been like a masterclass in self-acceptance.
Then there's another cis friend of mine. She could be a very cute lady, she has kind eyes, a lovely smile, a natural elegance about her. But she’s given up. Somewhere along the way, the beauty race wore her down. She no longer bothers with clothes or makeup or even a comb most days. Not because she’s lazy, but because the pressure crushed the joy out of it. And that’s just as heartbreaking. When beauty becomes a battlefield, sometimes people just stop fighting.
And then there’s my trans sister-in-arms. She never tires of trying. She’ll spend hours perfecting her eyeliner, researching skincare routines, curating a wardrobe that sings with elegance and color. She tries, not because someone told her to, but because it brings her joy, because beauty is her rebellion, her poetry, her triumph. Her reflection is not just a face, it’s a victory.
So what’s the common thread? It’s not body type, age, money or hormones. It’s the mind. That’s the secret no mirror can show you.
Because the truth is, beauty is a choice, not in the sense of foundation or fashion, but in how we choose to see ourselves. Whether you’re painting your eyelids with glitter, marching in sweatpants or dancing in a dress that hugs your every curve, beauty starts with believing that you are worthy of it. Let’s look in the mirror, not for faults, but for proof of life, courage and resilience. Because beauty isn’t about looking a certain way. It’s about seeing yourself clearly and still choosing to love what you see.
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| Wearing Boston Proper |
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| Ronnie Corbett and Ronnie Barker on British television’s The Two Ronnies |
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