The Mirror Talk We All Need

I grew up surrounded by mirrors. Not metaphorically—I mean literally. Backstage at Vegas showrooms, mirrors covered every inch of the dressing rooms, reflecting sequins, feathers, and faces in various stages of transformation. My mom, a costume designer, used to say, “These mirrors hold secrets, dreams, and a hell of a lot of hairspray.” But if you’d asked me back then what mirrors held for me, I’d have said judgment.

You see, it’s one thing to grow up surrounded by showgirls and their rhinestones; it’s another to carry that glow yourself. Between the comparisons I made to the impossibly glamorous performers and the quiet pressure of living near a city built on appearances, a heavy truth settled on my shoulders early: I didn’t see myself as worthy of the shine. Cue years of trying—and failing—to mold myself into something “acceptable.”

It wasn’t until I hit my mid-twenties that I realized the real work wasn’t about changing my appearance; it was about changing how I looked at myself. This is not some overnight “aha” moment—I didn’t wake up, cue a Beyoncé song, and instantly feel like a goddess. Nope. Self-love, for me, has been a rocky journey with potholes of insecurity and the occasional scenic detour of pride. Today, we’re diving into that messy, beautiful process so you can (hopefully) skip some of my missteps—or at least laugh along with them.

Somebody Hand Me a Spotlight

Las Vegas is addictive in its sparkle. Even if you live in the sleepy suburbs, you can’t escape the sheen of showbiz seeping into life. As a kid, I thought being loved meant being dazzling. The performers buoyed by applause? The couples holding hands beneath the marquee lights? I figured they had life figured out. Seeing myself through that lens as a chubby teen with braces was… well, less than uplifting.

Early on, I fell into the trap of thinking I needed external validation to feel whole. I became a people pleaser extraordinaire: the overachieving student, the unflinchingly agreeable friend, the girl who never said “no” to anyone—but somehow kept saying it to herself. Let me be clear: validation is not inherently bad (I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a genuine compliment?), but tying your self-worth to someone else’s opinion? That’s essentially gift-wrapping it and handing it over to a stranger who may or may not treat it well.

Realizing that no applause, compliment, or Instagram like could sustain me was the first step. Learning to be my own audience? That was part two.

The Eye-Contact Experiment

One of the most uncomfortable things I ever did was set a timer for two minutes and stare directly into my reflection. No makeup, no filters, no flattering angles—just me. I’d read about this practice somewhere (fun fact: it’s called mirrorself-esteem work, not witchcraft), and all I could think was, “Two minutes? Easy.”

Reader, it was NOT. I squirmed, I grimaced, I mentally critiqued my pores. Then at about the 90-second mark, something softened. I didn’t start glowing or levitating, but I did feel... calmer. Like I was finally seeing myself, not just as Aurora The Critic but as Aurora The Whole. Someone complete. Someone deserving of love and kindness without having to earn it every minute of the day.

Now, maybe mirror-staring isn’t your thing. Totally fine. But I challenge you to start noticing the way you speak to yourself. Are you as kind to your reflection as you are to your best friend? Or would your internal dialogue make Simon Cowell blush?

Learning to Date Without Losing Yourself

Oh, I should mention: my self-love journey coincided with a string of very bad romantic decisions. And when I say “bad,” think early-2000s rom-com boyfriend material—minus the charming makeovers and happy endings. I was the girl who twisted herself into pretzels trying to be “good enough”: sampling sports I couldn’t care less about, pretending to like jazz when I actually wanted Motown, and Googling “why do men love football metaphors so much.”

The low point came after a brief but intense relationship with someone I’ll call Chad (because, yes, he was that guy). Chad loved the Vegas nightlife, which meant multiple evenings where I’d wear shoes that were essentially torture devices just to keep up. It wasn’t until our very last date—when I found myself holding $17 fries in one hand and my dignity in the other—that I asked, “What the hell am I doing here?”

Spoiler: Chad and I broke up, and I threw those heels out. But that cringe-worthy realization became a turning point. I understood, finally, that in trying to make someone else love me, I’d forgotten to love myself enough to say, “Hey, I deserve better than this.”

Hone Your Inner Costume Designer

So how did I actually learn to love myself? Here’s the thing: self-love isn’t all spa days and motivational posters. For me, it’s work—thoughtful, deliberate work. But it’s also joyful—not nearly as glamorous as sequins but every bit as transformative.

Here’s what worked for me (feel free to try these on for size):

  • Get Specific About Your Worth: Start by listing things you genuinely like about yourself. No qualifiers allowed (e.g., “I guess I’m okay at…”)—just facts. “I’m good at comforting people.” “I have strong calves.” “My karaoke rendition of ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ could stop traffic.”
  • Embrace Imperfections: I used to photoshop my mind’s eye image of myself: silencing the parts I thought didn’t fit. Accepting my quirks—my fast-talking, my addiction to desert sunsets, my tendency to overthink—was key. Remember, imperfections are what make us human.
  • Find Your Stage (and Own It): Whether it’s yoga, journaling, salsa dancing, or bingeing the emotional rollercoaster that is “Ted Lasso,” find something that lights you up inside. Those moments of pure joy? They remind you there’s more to life than impressing others.
  • Ditch the Highlight Reel: Comparing myself to others—especially social media-perfect versions? A quick recipe for misery. I learned to log off when necessary and celebrate my offline wins instead (baking a semi-passable cake is a win, OK?).

From Showgirl Dreams to Quiet Pride

Loving myself has given me one unexpected superpower: the ability to find joy in who I am without needing a stage or a partner to validate it. Don’t get me wrong—validation is deeply human. But I’ve learned that love from others is most meaningful when it supplements, not replaces, the love you build internally.

Today, those reflections in my Vegas-inspired mirrors no longer feel like judgment zones. They’re check-in points—a moment to nod at myself and say, “You’re doing just fine.” Self-love isn’t about flipping a switch; it’s a dimmer. Day by day, little by little, you turn it up.

So here’s my advice: Don’t wait for the thunderous applause or the oversold nightclub. Start small. Start sincere. Start with two minutes in the mirror. And remember, darling: you really are the greatest show on earth.