This time last year, I was in a terrible place. I was going through a period of intense sadness. Broke, post-break-up, feeling worthless: you probably know the drill. I think even the most optimistic among us hit these pockets of sadness every once in a while, but for me this one felt deeper than the funks I’d fallen into before. I wasn’t just unhappy, I was adrift. I’d lost my mojo. My self-worth. A good friend tried to help me out of the pit by setting me up with one of her friends, but the day after the date I cried on her because it had gone so badly. He’d been really keen, but I couldn’t meet him in that place. When he tried to kiss me at the end of the date I couldn’t do anything other than take a step backwards and shake my head. He must have thought I was so rude! I didn’t say ‘no’, or explain why I didn’t want to kiss him—I didn’t even know why. He was stunning. I just shook my head, choked with tears, unable to understand why this fabulous man might want me.

In truth, my body just wasn’t responding to him. I knew it wasn’t his fault—he was charming, sexy, respectful. The perfect gentleman. And yet for some reason I just couldn’t see myself stripping off and taking him to bed. That felt like such an impossible thing to do.

I expected my friend to hold me, which she did, and tell me comforting things about how it would get better, and she did that too, but what I hadn’t expected was what she did next…

She bought me a mirror.

A huge, ornate, beautiful mirror which arrived at my house a few days after I’d wept on her shoulder. She’d included a note:

Put this somewhere you will see it every day. Make yourself look into it. Every day. Clothed, naked, however you like: try to see your body, your face, your beautiful self. I promise you that in a few months’ time, you’ll see what the rest of us see—and you’ll realise you love it....READMORE