Body dysmorphia

I bought a shirt today.  In the dressing room, my body horrified me.  It took being able to wear the extra, extra small shirt, the smallest size that the store had, for me to stop seeing obesity in the mirror.  I didn't buy the extra, extra small.  I bought the extra small.

Yes, I am 46 and my body isn't what it was a few years ago.  However, there is no reason that I should be horrified and ashamed when I look in the mirror.  After criminally invading my privacy, slut-shaming me, sexually harassing me and hyperfocussing on what I look like for a decade and counting, the conglomerate has invaded my mind.

Stop talking about what I look like.  Don't say that I look good.  Don't say that I look bad.  Stop talking about it.