The mirror. My hardest, worst critic. That mirror hated me. It hated every piece of me. Every skin cell, every misplaced hair, every imperfect lash. It hated it all. I was never enough. I always needed to be fixed. And no matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard I worked there was no meal plan or exercise routine or mantra that would ever change those deep, deep wounds. I was simply unworthy.