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the inner self of a cat

This is how Fluffy sees herself. You might see her as an adorable neck nuzzling furball who would have trouble hurting a fly.

That’s not her, that’s just a facade that cats learnt a long time ago in order to get humans to feed them. Inside, they’re still that noble creature that hunts for itself, and doesn’t take shit from anyone. We all see different things when we look in a mirror, and to make a nice broad sweeping generalisation — they’re all wrong.

Fluffy hasn’t had to take down a gazelle on the run for thousands of years, us women actually aren’t as ugly as well feel we are (and especially not in the places we think we are), men really don’t have as many muscles as they think they do, and dogs, well, I’m not sure there’s much going on in there. A species that enjoys eating cat turds just can’t have much going on upstairs.

Every single female in my family has some feature that we think is hugely deforming when we look at ourselves in the mirror. For me it’s my jawline, for my sister, it’s her teeth — I can’t see it, but apparently she can. My mother tells me that she has had the same thoughts about her own jawline as I have about mine — but I can’t see it in her, so maybe it’s just not that big on me either.

My fiance thinks his hair is too curly, and he frequently squishes his nose into strange arrangements in an effort to make it look, well, some other way. Me? I like his nose, and I love his hair. We all think we look stupid.

Except cats. They see the inner tiger.