Last week, I heard a radio commentator advise her listeners on a fail-proof post-holiday diet guaranteed to see you lose up to 15 pounds. It was easy, she said. Throw out your mirror.

What a great solution, she chirped. What an easy way to rid yourself of all that doubt, dissasisfaction and depression that comes with having a body. Without a mirror to remind you of those unsightly thighs, that jiggling stomach, those flabby arms, you could go through each day confident, self-assured and empowered. After a while, you could even forget you had a body in the first place.

There were, of course, a few flaws in her plan. Department stores would pose a problem, as would mirrored sunglasses. And any devotee of this program would probably want to consider painting all reflective surfaces in the home black.

The most aggregious flaw in all of this, though, was the fact that her brilliant "self-improvment" plan attempted to fix what wasn't broken in the first place. It was based on the idea that your body was flawed beyond repair, that you had somehow failed to measure up to some universal beauty standard.

And in reality, a lot of people — women and men — feel that way, that somehow their bodies are pale imitations of what everyone thinks they should be.

When this woman decided to throw out her mirror, she was refusing to let the guilt and unhappiness she felt when looking at her body ruin her day. While that's admirable, she got rid of her body instead of getting rid of the bad feelings her body inspiried.

When you throw out your mirror, you're also throwing out a big a big part of who you are. You're handing it over to the narrow and oppressive standards of commercial beauty. Sure, it seems noble and brave and dignified, but in a conquered sense. It's Scarlet O'Hara in a pile of ashes saying she'll never go hungry again. Poetic, brave, and completely and utterly defeated.

The more we hide from the mirror, the more we'll begin to fear how we look. It's admirable to refuse to let the standard rule us. But to be truly content, we should tell the standard to get lost.

Why on earth should we let magazines, movies and Friends deny us the pleasure of our bodies? Bodies are great, kiddo — yours included.

So what if Giselle's torso is long and straight and yours is short and round? So what if James Van Der Beek has a jaw that could cut paper, and yours is not so diefined? What makes them any better than you, except for the fact that someone says they are?

I say hold on to your mirror. In fact, plaster your whole damn house with them. Buy only chrome appliances. Make like the guy in the flat TV commercial and put mirrors in your mailbox, on your ceiling, in your sock drawer. And on each and every one of them, tape this little reminder: You are a foxy, foxy thing.

You know this: You complain about the way your jeans fit, you buy long sweaters to cover your waist, but every once in a while, you get the sneaking suspicion that you are incredibly good looking. Haven't there been instances when you caught a glimpse in the mirror, swaggered into a party or coyly made someone giggle with nervousness and just for a second thought, "I am way sexy. I may in fact be the sexiest person in the room?"

Hang onto that. You are sexy, sexier than you give yourself credit.

That butt you bemoan once made someone just plain moan. Someone once lusted after those skinny little legs of yours. And that gorgeous thing in your stat class, the one in whom you see no wrong, probably hates their own fill in the blank.

For as much as you criticize your thighs, those thighs have walked you toward some of your greatest victories. That butt, those arms, those hips were all there when you aced that speech, scored that kiss or landed that perfect job. Those people weren't accepting you in spite of your butt. They were embracing you, butt and all.

No one says, "Well, she's a little hippy, but we'll hire her anyway." When you walk out of that room, they're not watching your calves. They're too busy thinking, "That girl is good."

God gave you a body. God gave you a soul: an intangible bundle of personality, humor, compassion, complexity and the wisdom and grace you've picked up along the way. Don't divorce the one from the other. Each is beautiful, original and the only thing you really have that you can call your own.

Don't forsake your body in the name of peace of mind. Don't run from mirrors. Embrace them legs. Worship that belly of yours. Take baths with roses. Rub yourself down with lotion and oils, or let someone equally sexy and self-assured do it for you. Buy slinky clothes you feel hot in. Take every opportunity to check yourself out. Love your curves. Love your lines.

Throw out your Cosmos. Throw out that guy or girl who believes your figure is anything less then magnificent. Throw out those nagging doubts that you would be happier, prettier or somehow better if only you were taller/bustier/more muscular.

Keep your mirror.