You can know everything about the politics of beauty standards, genetics, and the millions of dollars spent each year making sure every female alive hates some part of herself so much that she will pay a major corporation to help her hide or change it — but then you look in the mirror and talk to yourself like the enemy anyway.
I wanted to yell and stomp around and call names, which was my usual
coping strategy at the time for furious-making situations. And that’s
when I had a little epiphany: experiencing the pain of my own anger made
me realize one of the reasons I usually yelled and stomped was that
doing so would distract me from how awful it felt to be this angry.