I feel like there are spiders under my skin. Every piece of fabric simply feels wrong somehow. A glance at the mirror reflects back the mania in my eyes and I know.
I know this familiar demon that lies beneath the surface of my dermis, waiting to bat its red eyes at me. It’s my body dysmorphia.
I’m on outfit number seven today. On any other Monday, it might seem like I’m simply a diva that loves her own closet’s runway show.Read more on themighty.com