When I Look in the Mirror, I Don’t See Myself Anymore

I never thought I’d write this.

Not because it’s taboo or shocking, but because I thought I could keep navigating this body, this life, without having to say it out loud.

But here it is:

Until I was 40, I never weighed more than 145 pounds. That was my body’s upper limit, even during pregnancy. I hovered in the 120s, sometimes lower. I never gave it too much thought. My weight wasn’t “ideal,” it wasn’t “flawless,” but it was mine.

It felt like home.

Then came July 2020 through 2023.

Stress, survival, heartbreak, parenting, trauma, endings, restarts. You name it, I carried it.

And so did my body.

My body, kind and stubborn, carried it all, without complaint.

The late-night panic.

The takeout meals and skipped meals.

The months of working too much and sleeping too little.

The emotional dead zones and bursts of misplaced energy.

The grief.

My body held me through it all.

And it changed.

I gained nearly 50 pounds.

This isn’t a “before and after.”

This isn’t a pity post.

This is just a truthful one.

I weighed 177 pounds in June 2025.

I am in my mid-40s.

I am divorced, raising kids, and trying my best.

Some days, I survive with grace. Some days I just… survive.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t recognize the woman in the mirror.

She looks like my mother.

She has an apple-shaped body I don’t know how to dress.”

She carries history in her hips and worry in her neck.

She feels like a stranger wearing my old eyes.

I don’t hate her. But I miss myself.

I know this body didn’t fail me.

I just abandoned the softness with which I once cared for it.

And now I want to come back.

Not to my “goal weight.”

Not to the woman I was at 30.

But back to recognition.

To standing in front of the mirror and thinking:

Yes. That’s her.

I remember her.

She is me.

And here’s the part no one says aloud.

I feel guilt and shame for wanting that.

For wanting to lose weight.

Because now, even that desire gets judged.

One side says I’ve given up.

The other says I’m betraying my body if I want it to change.

And I say. No. I’m just trying to come home to myself.

To the woman reading this...

If you are mid-40s,

single, divorced, alone, tired,

I want you to know,

You’re not the only one who feels like disappearing in plain sight.

We are a quiet sisterhood.

Built from sleepless nights, resilience, and softly screamed prayers.

It’s okay to want your reflection to feel familiar.

It’s okay to feel uncomfortable in your clothes.

It’s okay to grieve the body you lived in before it had to carry the weight of your life.

You don’t have to pretend.

You don’t have to apologize.

And you don’t have to stay silent while your body becomes a battlefield between self-love and survival.

You are allowed to want ease.

You are allowed to want change.

And you are allowed to be proud of the woman you are, now, while still reaching for the woman you’re becoming.

I’m with you.

Not because I figured it out.

But because I’m walking beside you,

trying to come home too.

We’re not lost. We’re just returning. Luv Saj