Once upon a time, a woman stood in
front of her mirror and asked, “Am /
enough?” And the mirror-armed with filters, 12-step routines, and glowing influencers with suspiciously identical noses–whispered, “Not yet.”
Let’s talk about that mirror. The one polished by billion-dollar beauty brands that profit from your insecurity. The one that tell|s you that unless your pores are invisible, your dark circles erased, and your face as reflective as a glass table, you’re not beautiful. The one that convinces you to spend half your paycheck and a third of your life following 50-step skincare routines designed not for care–but for capitalism.
What began as “nourishing your skin” has become a full-blown anxiety ritual. Double cleanse, Essence, Serum, Ampoule, Spot corrector, Toner, Toner for your toner. And don’t forget the jade roller charged under the full moon. If you’re tired just reading that, imagine living it.
Somehow, we’ve gone from caring for ourselves to doubting ourselves. The beauty industry didn’t just sell us products–it sold us fear. Fear of not being seen, liked, loved. Fear of aging, even though it’s the most natural thing in the world. Fear of not looking like that girl online, who probably filtered her soul out along with her freckles.
And in the middle of this spiral of self-loathing, my dog–Junior–walks in. He plops down next to me with yesterday’s breakfast on his chin and a twig stuck to his butt.
He looks up, wagging his tail like l’m the goddess of all things belly rub.
Junior doesn’t care about my fine lines. He doesn’t care if I’ve used retinol or rubbed snail slime on my cheeks. He loves me with my frizz, my breakouts, my laugh lines, and the occasional mental breakdown. To him, I am enough. Without steps. Without serums. Just me.
And in that moment, I realized: the world needs fewer rules and more dogs.
Let’s stop performing beauty and start feeling it. Let’s stop letting an industry define how we show up in the world. Let’s not spend our lives in front of the mirror chasing glass skin when we could be chasing sunsets, purpose, and maybe
a tail or two.
You’re not an alien. You’re a human. A messy, radiant, complex, beautiful human. And if anyone tells you otherwise–just send your dog after them.