Is the Image You See in the Mirror the Real You?

Maybe Not. Rebecca Morrison on the persistence—and shifting—of body image issues as we age. PLUS: An open thread where you can weigh in on your own similar experiences before the mirror.

Apr 10, 2026

Readers,

Today we have a personal essay by Rebecca Morrison about dealing with life-long body image issues later on, especially after changes brought on by perimenopause. It’s down below this section. ⬇️

She writes about struggling to find a form of exercise that doesn’t feel punishing, and about striving to maintain the sort of body acceptance so many of us adopted before our culture recently reverted to worshipping emaciation.

I relate strongly to this piece, as someone who has also struggled with body image issues since I was a tween. I imagine many of you, even regardless of age and gender, will find it similarly resonant. It seemed like a good topic to prompt you about. In the comments please tell us:

How old are you? Have you ever struggled with body image issues? How have you dealt with them? Have you found ways to exercise that you enjoy, and which don’t feel punishing? Have you managed to achieve body acceptance, and/or found other ways to be compassionate and kind to yourself with regard to your appearance? Answer as many or as few of these questions as you’d like! (If you’re commenting, please also do me the favor of hitting the heart button ❤️ for algorithmic purposes. Thank you.)

Rebecca Morrison’s essay begins below here. ⬇️

Rebecca Morrison on a nature walk last summer.

That so many people like to exercise has always seemed incredible to me. When I was younger, I somehow managed to force myself onto a treadmill and get my heart rate up to a decent tempo. But by the time I hit my 50s, my perimenopausal body had other ideas. My energy level was low, my joints were cranky, and let’s just say the couch and I had become very close.

Then, by some miracle, I discovered something I actually enjoyed: walking. I walk for about 30 minutes in the morning and 30 minutes in the afternoon, usually around my suburban neighborhood. When I’m walking, I feel strong, young, and free. With ’80s music blasting on my chunky headphones, I strut down the tree-lined streets like the main character in a movie montage. Whether it’s cold or hot or breezy, the air outdoors inflates my lungs with life. I’m on an adventure: ducking under the branches, watching dogs and their owners frolic along.

But sometimes, without warning, I’m accosted by the reflection of myself in a window.

Morrison in her first year of high school, at 14.

The image is like a splash of ice-cold water, taking my breath away. There I am. My bigger body. My hair in a messy bun with gray streaks taking over. My face sweaty and flushed. And just like that, an old voice returns, reprimanding me for eating too much, for not coloring my hair, for letting myself be this person in the reflection.

It’s a voice I’ve known since I was 13 when my mother and I started fighting about the size of my post-puberty body. She wanted a thin daughter and I wasn’t complying. The more she pushed, the more I pushed back. We both dug into our positions, creating a dark space between us.

Sometimes, without warning, I’m accosted by the reflection of myself in a window. The image is like a splash of ice-cold water, taking my breath away. There I am. My bigger body. My hair in a messy bun with gray streaks taking over. My face sweaty and flushed. And just like that, an old voice returns, reprimanding me for eating too much, for not coloring my hair, for letting myself be this person in the reflection.

My anger toward her resulted in a sort of self-sabotaging rebellion, in the form decades of overeating. Every bite I took was a rejection of her admonishments.

I never got thin. But when I was in my 30s, I made peace with my average-American body, and with my mom, who’d finally come to accept me as I was. Around the same time, the body-positivity movement was gaining traction. For the first time, I wasn’t alone in saying: I don’t need to fix myself to feel worthy.

Alongside millions of women, I embraced the radical idea that beauty, confidence, and value were possible at any size. And that if I believed it enough, others would start to see me as I saw myself.

Sociologists refer to the idea that we see ourselves as others see us as “the looking glass self,” a term coined in 1902 by Charles Horton Cooley. Cooley theorized that our self-image is formed through our perception of how we think others perceive us. In turn, that self-image influences how we behave, speak, and carry ourselves, and how people respond to us. If we think others have a positive view of us, we behave accordingly, and this behavior itself can make people like us. Or, to put it another way, our opinion of how other people think of us can be self-fulfilling.

Morrison enjoying a recent walk in her neighborhood.

This sociological theory is important to understand, especially for those in bigger bodies, because we’re often taught that no matter how we feel, if the world sees us as less-than, then that’s what we are and there’s nothing we can do about it.

But research tells a different story.

A 2025 study in Frontiers in Psychology found that when people focus on self-compassion rather than how they look, they have significantly higher levels of self-esteem, emotional resilience, and even healthier habits.

We’re often taught that no matter how we feel, if the world sees us as less-than, then that’s what we are and there’s nothing we can do about it. But research tells a different story. A 2025 study in Frontiers in Psychology found that when people focus on self-compassion rather than how they look, they have significantly higher levels of self-esteem, emotional resilience, and even healthier habits.

“Since our thoughts, emotions and behaviors are all linked, it’s important to not only feel good, but to also speak kindly to ourselves. If you have a negative body thought, that can directly impact not just your feelings but your behavior,” says Dr. Rachel Goldman, Clinical Assistant Professor, Department of Psychiatry at the NYU Grossman School of Medicine, and author of When Life Happens.

So now when I see my full-body reflection on my daily walk, I’ll remind myself not to flinch. Instead, I’ll push my shoulders back and stand up tall knowing the reflection doesn’t have to be the story I tell myself. The real me is the one I feel inside. The one who brought kids into the world. Who pushes up hills, and carries heavy grocery bags up stairs without thinking twice. Who opens jars no one else can. And laughs with her whole body.

I choose her.

**Check out Rebecca Morrison’s new young adult novel…**

We’re so quick to believe the worst snapshot of ourselves. But what if we trusted the feeling instead of the image? What if we held tight to the version of ourselves that feels powerful, joyful and whole, and believed that’s who the world sees too.

Some might think I’m living in denial. That rejecting the “reality” of how we look is somehow dangerous. I disagree.

We’re so quick to believe the worst snapshot of ourselves. But what if we trusted the feeling instead of the image? What if we held tight to the version of ourselves that feels powerful, joyful and whole, and believed that’s who the world sees too.

Because here’s what I know, and research shows: How we see ourselves shapes not only how others see us but how we choose to live.

Maybe I’ll never silence the critical voice from my younger self completely. But I can turn down its volume, and turn up the positive story I tell myself. And when that story takes root, it changes the way I move through the world. It’s a quiet kind of power that can help me live a better, happier, and more confident life.

Okay, your turn…

How old are you? Have you ever struggled with body image issues? How have you dealt with them? Have you found ways to exercise that you enjoy, and which don’t feel punishing? Have you managed to achieve body acceptance, and/or found other ways to be compassionate and kind to yourself with regard to your appearance? Answer as many or as few of these questions as you’d like! (If you’re commenting, please also do me the favor of hitting the heart button ❤️ for algorithmic purposes. Thank you.)

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