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There was a time when every glance in the mirror felt like a judgment, where every scar, curve, and imperfection became something I criticized, something I wished away. I was my own harshest critic, never seeing the beauty in the becoming. But something changed. Slowly, I started to shift. I began seeing strength where I once saw flaws. I started honoring the person staring back at me not because they were perfect, but because they had endured, grown, and kept going. Now, when I look at my reflection, I don’t search for mistakes. I celebrate the progress, the healing, the resilience. That, to me, is real growth, not perfection, but acceptance. /itookaselfie 9 replies
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