I’m standing near a fitting room. A woman walks out, goes up to the mirror, and kind of asks the air, “I don’t even know if I should buy it or not?” Without thinking too much, I answer honestly. I point out that the blouse looks a bit tight, that the fabric pulls across her back and the sleeves sit awkwardly short. My tone isn’t cruel, just practical, the way you’d speak to a friend who asked for real feedback. She blushes immediately, her eyes dropping for a second before she looks back at her reflection, clearly caught off guard.
After a quiet pause, she exhales and says softly, “Actually, I’m trying to lose weight. I thought buying this size would motivate me.” There’s no drama in her voice—just vulnerability. In that moment, the mirror stops being about fabric and stitching and becomes something heavier. I realize she wasn’t asking about the blouse at all. She was asking for reassurance, for permission to feel okay in her body right now, not in some imagined future version of herself.
