The Mirror and Me

There are mirrors you can trust—and then there are the bathroom ones at 7 a.m. under fluorescent light. You know the kind. The kind that snitches. The kind that doesn’t know how to mind its business.

I swear, one morning I walked into the bathroom, half asleep, ready to brush my teeth, and there she was. This woman with a bonnet hanging on for dear life, mascara smudged from last night’s “I’m just going to watch one episode,” and a face that looked suspiciously like mine… only rounder, softer, and a little more lived in.

For a moment, I didn’t recognize her. Then I laughed—one of those low, grown-woman laughs that sounds like both grace and surrender. Because deep down, I remembered the girl I used to be. She’s still here… somewhere under the laugh lines and the stretch marks. She just looks like she’s been through some things.

The Memory

The memory of the mirror is powerful. I remember the 20-something version of me—edges laid, waist snatched, skin tight enough to bounce a quarter off. Back then, I could stay up all night, eat fries at midnight, and still wake up looking refreshed. Now if I have too much sodium, I look like I auditioned for a puffer-fish documentary.

But that younger me? She was fearless. She was fine. She was also naive enough to think she had all the time in the world.

And now, here I am—forty-plus, wiser, slower to recover, but deeper, richer, and more dangerous in the best way. Life has seasoned me. What used to sting now slides off my back. What used to shake me doesn’t even get a reaction. I have learned how to be unbothered—at least until the hot flashes kick in.

When the Mirror Starts Talking Back

Let’s be real. The mirror isn’t just glass—it’s an opinionated friend. Some days she says, “Girl, you look good!” and other days she’s like, “Sis… you tired, or are those your real eyebrows?”

And then there’s the full-length mirror—the one that has seen everything from Sunday best to stretch pants and old college T-shirts. I caught my reflection in that one the other day, halfway through trying on jeans that clearly had no intention of buttoning. And I said to myself, “I rebuke this denim in Jesus’ name.”

Because what nobody tells you is that the body keeps score. Every late night, every baby, every heartbreak, every stress-snack—it all shows up somewhere. But you know what else shows up? Growth. Confidence. Peace. The kind of self-assurance you only get when you’ve survived some things.

If we were in a coaching session right now, I’d tell you to pause for a minute. Go to your mirror—not to fix anything, but to see.

Look at her. That woman staring back at you. The one who’s carried kids, responsibilities, grief, maybe even shame. The one who’s loved hard, given more than she’s received, and still wakes up every day showing up for her people.

Now ask her this:

“What do you need from me today?”

Not from the kids. Not from the husband or the job or the church. From you.

You might be surprised at what she says.

The Lies We Tell Ourselves

Somewhere between hormones and hustle culture, we started believing the lie that we have to keep it together 24/7. That our worth is tied to how flat our stomach is or how productive our day looks on Instagram.

Baby, listen—your body is not a performance. It’s a story. And every scar, every wrinkle, every dimple of cellulite is a paragraph in that story.

I used to cover mine up like they were secrets. Now I let them show. They’re proof that I’ve lived.

And yet, even knowing all that, there are still mornings I have to talk myself back into grace. Because some days, the woman in the mirror feels foreign. She’s familiar, but she’s not the same.

That’s when I remind myself: maybe I’m not supposed to be.

The Shift from “Her” to “Me”

You know what’s wild? The younger me was chasing validation—trying to be her. The woman with the tight abs, the big plans, the five-year goals. The woman who thought she had to prove herself.

But the woman I am now? She’s not performing anymore. She’s becoming.

And that’s a word right there—becoming. It’s messy, it’s slow, and it doesn’t always look graceful. But it’s real.

Sometimes becoming looks like saying no to things that drain you.
Sometimes it looks like taking a nap in the middle of the day and not feeling guilty.
Sometimes it’s canceling the dinner plans and pouring a glass of wine in silence.

Because you’re not falling apart—you’re recalibrating.

Coaching Moment: The Permission Slip

If you’ve ever felt guilty for changing, here’s your permission slip.

You don’t owe anyone the version of you that they remember. You are allowed to evolve. You’re allowed to outgrow people, places, patterns, and even praise.

I tell my coaching clients all the time: growth often feels like grief, because you’re saying goodbye to who you used to be.

But baby, that’s what freedom feels like—it’s not always a shout. Sometimes it’s a quiet exhale that says, “I finally get to be me.”

Funny Truths from the Midlife Files

Let’s lighten it up for a second. Because if we can’t laugh at midlife, we might just cry.

1. Why does every strand of gray hair act like it’s trying to get noticed? It’s like, “Hey, girl, I’m front and center today.”
2. My metabolism left the group chat.
3. Who knew sleep could become a luxury sport? One night you’re out cold, the next you’re counting ceiling fans at 3 a.m.
4. And don’t get me started on libido—it’s either M.I.A. or a full-on teenage revival. There’s no middle ground.
5. The bathroom scale? A liar and a thief. I don’t even speak to her anymore.

But here’s the beauty in all of it: we finally care less about what people think and more about how we feel. That, my friend, is liberation.

What the Mirror Can’t Reflect

The mirror can show your face, but it can’t show your resilience. It can’t show the nights you prayed yourself through heartbreak, the days you led on empty, or the times you kept smiling when life was anything but pretty.

The mirror doesn’t see your strength—it sees your surface. And you, my love, are so much more than surface.

You are layered. Complicated. Beautifully unfinished.

Coaching Moment #2: The Self-Compassion Check-In

Here’s something simple you can do this week:
Each morning, instead of looking in the mirror and finding something wrong, find three things right.

Maybe it’s:

• “My eyes look kind.”
• “These hands have done good work.”
• “I’m still here.”

That’s it. You don’t have to fake confidence; just tell the truth kindly. The more you practice it, the less you’ll see flaws—and the more you’ll see you.

From Comparison to Compassion

We live in a world obsessed with filters and fillers. And listen, if Botox or a good lace-front makes you feel good, do it. No judgment. I might even ask for your stylist’s number.

But the danger is when we start measuring our worth by comparison. You can’t become the woman you’re meant to be while competing with the memory of who you were—or with someone else’s highlight reel.

The only woman you need to measure yourself against is the one you were yesterday.

That’s how growth happens. That’s how healing happens. That’s how becoming happens.

When the Mirror Becomes a Window

The day you stop using the mirror as a critic and start using it as a window—something you can look through instead of just at—that’s the day you meet your truest self.

She’s not waiting for permission. She’s waiting for acknowledgment.

And when you finally say, “Hey, girl, I see you,” something sacred happens. You stop chasing approval. You stop apologizing for aging, slowing down, or changing your mind. You stop letting guilt narrate your story.

You start living. Fully. Loudly. Freely.

Coaching Moment #3: The Becoming Practice

Try this journaling exercise tonight:
Write down the sentence—

“The woman I’m becoming is…”

Then fill in the blanks.

The woman I’m becoming is softer.
The woman I’m becoming is done explaining herself.
The woman I’m becoming is at peace with both the mirror and the memory.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just start speaking it. You’d be surprised how your words begin to catch up with your reflection.

The Mirror Isn’t the Enemy

If you take nothing else from this, take this truth—
The mirror is not your enemy. It’s your evidence.

Evidence that you’ve survived, grown, evolved, and maybe even glowed up a little in ways that no foundation or filter can replicate.

So tonight, when you walk past that mirror, don’t flinch. Don’t criticize. Smile. Wink if you have to. Say, “Hey beautiful, look at us—we made it.”

Because the woman in the memory and the woman in the mirror? They’re finally learning how to love each other.

If you’re in this season of rediscovering yourself—physically, emotionally, or spiritually—and you’re ready to stop fighting the reflection and start becoming her,
come sit with me at coachantoinette.com.

Let’s do the inner work together. You don’t have to face that mirror alone.

© 2025 Antoinette McCormick | The Coaching Table | Hot Flashes & Cold Truth

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