This week, I was suddenly struck by how much I hate looking at my own reflection. I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom on the way to the shower and duck my head down; I try not to glance up even while brushing my teeth. When I step in front of the mirror in the morning to check my clothing for "teacher-appropriateness," my eyes immediately dart to the parts of my body I hate--my mooshy midsection or perceived double chin or lack of prominent collarbones. I put my arms straight down by my sides to hide my hips and wonder what it would look like if I had the slim waist of a J. Crew model. Many times, I wonder if I try to make myself look worse, if I pudge out my stomach or pull my chin into my neck just to see the horror that everyone else must see.
Just last week, a colleague snapped a photo of Jeff and me at a party. When I left the house, I'd felt confident in my swingy blue dress and cork-soled espadrilles. As I sipped wine and chatted with friends, I was relaxed and at ease. But when Monday morning came and my well-meaning friend emailed me the photos she'd taken, I nearly cried at my desk. Gone was the girl I'd felt like; she'd been replaced by an ogre with jiggly arms, chipmunk cheeks, a massive forehead, and ridiculous hair. The second photo was no better; this one showcased a double chin and tiny eyes pushed nearly shut by great blobs of cheeks and lower eyelids. I immediately shut the photos, not even bothering to forward them to Jeff. What broke my heart more than anything, though, was that I suddenly knew what everyone else saw that night. They didn't see the cute, fashionable, pretty woman I'd thought I was; that was just a cruel joke. They all saw the fatty in the photos, the one who no one would ever call a looker. Though I'm not surprised they didn't laugh--after all, they are my friends, I'm saddened to know what they have to look at in the office every day.
The scale has gone up by 10 pounds since the day we got married. The mirror makes me see the ugliness every morning. The photos are tangible evidence of what I have become; even the good ones are just tricks of lighting or age or angle. Those are the facts. And while I do wish I could live in a world without mirrors or photos, would it really make a difference? Because I've already seen the truth, and there's no going back.
Sweetie, I promise they did not see what you think they saw. In the pictures and in person, they saw a beautiful, vivacious, young woman who is their friend. A wonderful woman who is smart and lovely, who is supported and loved by a great husband. I've not even met you in person before, but I know your heart inside and I know you aren't giving yourself even close to enough credit. You deserve to see the beauty that every one else sees and I hope one day you can come to that place within. Huge stinkin' hugs...
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