Mirror, Mirror
I am standing in front of my bathroom mirror viewing my reflection, something I have done millions of times throughout my life. The difference is, I wonder if I am truly seeing myself as I am or as I want to be.
I have become so used to looking at myself, or so I thought, that I really am unsure if this is what other people see. Does that make sense? What I mean to say is, when we see something or read something over and over again, we become disillusioned so to speak.
It’s like reading a scripture that you have read over and over or heard, you skip parts of it and your mind fills in the blank. I think we ad-lib for lack of a better word. We make up things that sometimes are false.
Along this journey to getting un-fat, I am finding many things about myself I never thought of before. I am on this self discovery and parts of it I like while other parts are just plain ugly.
Today for me was one of those “ugly” events. I am down several pounds and I am also down a size or two. My clothes are fitting looser and getting baggy. I feel pretty good. This is where I should stop. I should measure my success in how I feel and not so much as the scales or mirror. However, it isn’t happening that way.
People are starting to notice I am losing weight and that is saying a lot, since I am fat. (See, I am still using that word so it will continue to sink in). Yesterday was a good “thin” day for the most part, but it was also a long holiday weekend filled with good company, family and yes, food. Although I have not denied myself food, good food and not so good food, I did over-indulge this weekend.
But back to yesterday; my husband told me the pants I could not wait to fit in, the ones hidden away in my “thin” closet and rediscovered, looked baggy. This both thrilled me and upset me, do you get me? Number one, I was thrilled over two things, one that my husband noticed (my husband doesn’t seem to notice things like this) and that they “thinner” pants were actually too baggy. It upset me because now I was stuck in that place that can be so frustrating, “the in-between” phase.
I turned this way and that way looking at myself in the mirror and trying to find something in my closet that “fit”. The reflection in the mirror showed a “thinner” me, but it wasn’t the “right” thin. You know the one I am talking about, the one splashed across every magazine stand in every store and on every TV screen in the world. The swimsuit thin, tight thighs, firm tummy, unlined face with beautiful teeth and hair bodied woman that has us comparing ourselves daily. That’s the one I am talking about and that’s the one I will not see again in my lifetime, at least on me.
I tried on several pairs of pants that a few weeks ago I had to lie horizontal and suck in my flab to even begin to zip up. Now they are comfy, baggy and unflattering pants. It is a good and bad feeling. I am in the in-betweens.
So, today when I went shopping for food, I stopped in this cute shop I found a few weeks ago with my daughter. I went through every rack in the shop, (on the fat girl’s side) and loaded my arms with two sizes, my current and the next size down. I was just sure that the pants size down from my current baggy pants style I had on would fit.
Well dears, let me tell you. I stepped into the fitting room; you know the one, with the unflattering lights and mirrors that slap you in the face of your true reality. I stood stock still and viewed myself and went into shock. It took me a moment or two to tear my eyes off of the unpleasant sight before me. I am going to be 53 ladies and gents and I am overweight. Even though I have spent the last two months slimming down, I am still a fat girl wanting to meet the inner thinner me. So what I saw in front of me surprised and depressed me.
I should know better than to do the following:
• Wear shorts outside of my house in full daylight.
• Go too long before coloring my hair.
• Never, ever think I can leave the house without a stitch of make-up on.
The first thing I noticed, that screamed at me was how gray my hair looked in this lighting. It’s not even a pretty gray, it is dull and lifeless. Then I saw my face, the one I decided to forego make up to give my face a break and wondered if I had lost my flipping mind. My eyes traveled down to my dimpled thighs and varicose veined stricken legs and I wanted to immediately lock myself in the booth until it either turned pitch black dark outside or the world came to an end. Neither was going to happen.
I sucked it up. I viewed the two really cute pairs of Capri pants I brought into the stall and the three tops all a size down from what I was wearing and one pair the current size. I stripped down to bra and panties and tried to avert my eyes anywhere but the sight before me. Impossible! The tiny stall had mirrors capturing every side of me and I had the most unpleasant thought of hidden cameras and being captured on video. I am sure you have all had that thought once or twice haven’t you?
The next size down was mission impossible. I got them over my jelly roll thighs but my hips protested. If anyone had me on hidden camera, I am imagined they had a chuckle or two at my disillusioned self. I pulled them off, feeling full of shame for thinking I was silly enough to think I had lost enough to squeeze into them in the first place. Then I tossed the current sized jeans on and found them too baggy in all the wrong places. Next I tried to stuff my oversized chest in a size smaller top and almost cried when the top got stuck half way over my head and shoulders. I feared ripping the garment into two and stuffing it in the jeans to hide it, but managed to squirm out of it with only minor sweating.
I ended up buying one top, yes a size smaller and shoes. I left feeling not so good about myself and less than thrilled to be walking around the grocery store after viewing myself in the mirrors that screamed I was not only still fat, but also looking like an old hag.
While I was shopping and trying to dodge anyone I vaguely knew, I thought about mirrors, clothing sizes and the inventor of both. I tried to console myself with the fact that today’s clothing designers were truly sadist in disguise. They must thrill themselves with the thoughts of us disillusioned “fat” women trying to shimmy into their clothing. I truly think today’s size 12, 14, 16 and 18 are really not the true sizes they were a few years ago.
However, no amount of false thinking was going to get me out of the vision of myself in that mirror that played over and over in my mind like some sort of tape that was stuck on rewind. Truth of the matter is ladies and gents; I still have some work today.
I will continue on in my efforts to shed these stubborn pounds and I will also try to see myself for whom I truly am. I am not so young any more, that is a fact I cannot change. I am not super model thin and most likely will never be. That is another fact I cannot really change. However, it’s the person inside of me that matters, not the mirror, not the size clothing I am wearing and certainly not my dull, gray hair shade.
Ever since my adventure into the dressing room, I have been stuck, almost as if I had waved the white flag and surrendered to my fat. We had more celebrations and I ate more than I should have, I stalled my exercise and more or less let myself get swallowed up in self pity. Today though, as I glanced sideways in the mirror at 3 A.M this morning, I wasn’t shocked at what I saw.
I know that somewhere inside of me is the young girl I used to be. This younger girl inside, has decided to make good friends of the mature lady I have become. I believe together, we can make positive changes in our selves. I have learned some things since that experience in front of the mirror. One thing I learned, besides the fact I should never leave the house without make-up, but that how I feel is more important than the image I may or may not project. If I am not happy with who I am, nothing else really matters.
So, I begin a new journey, down a slightly veered off path. It’s interesting what I find on my journey and my eyes are wide open along with my heart to embrace what lies ahead.
Teresa Gale
