Deep Dark Truthful Mirror: A Big Fat Rant

January 21, 2005
Okay – so yesterday was one of those days when I couldn’t help but take a look in the fat mirror. You know the one – usually comes in the form of a photograph or a video or the DVD from your sister’s wedding.

Actually- it began before I watched the DVD. I was sitting at a table full of quite in-shape women – feeling happy, laughing and talking and eating lunch. And somehow the conversation shifted to the gym and they all started talking about upper body strength and their gym routines and pilates classes. And I could feel myself, literally, sinking down into my chair. Then I thought, “I’m the fattest person at this table.” Even worse, I glanced around the room and realized, “I’m the FATTEST PERSON HERE!”

The depression began to roll in. Then, as we listened to the after-lunch motivational speaker talk about the reasons why people do not change (AND kept mentioning diets and weight loss) I felt a red wave a shame wash over me that I’m sure was coloring not just my face but my entire body. The reason, of course, is that we know what to do, but we’re just not willing to make the commitment to do it.

Vomit vomit vomit

So what did happen to my “commitment?” It was certainly there 4 months ago. It was shining and thrilling and awesome. I feel like a bad person. Who knew I was a commitment-phobe?

Anyway – so then I went to my sister’s after work to watch the wedding DVD and my God – I know that I said it was a cranberry triumph, but those berries have soured and rotted. I looked absolutely AWEFUL!!! Just to see my fat arms spilling out of the tiny cap sleeves – and my BELLY! I shudder just thinking about it. At some points, the way the light hit the front of my dress, I swear I looked like Jabba the Hutt. And, although I know that the white balance on the disc was all hosed up, my face looked like dirty clumps of bread dough just stuck on a skull. Horrific, people!

Okay – I know we are our own worst critic, but, does it make any sense at all that I’m sitting there and I’m thinking, “Do I look like that? Because I really did not think I looked like that.”

It’s the same kind of remorse when you look back on something that you wrote in high school, a paper or a short story – and you pass your educated and world-wise eyes over it and think – “My God I was SO proud of this! What in the hell was I thinking?”

Only this moment is neither tender nor bittersweet. Because it is RIGHT NOW. Because it is my reality.

Cue psychosomatic symptoms.

Suddenly all of my clothes feel too tight. I know that they didn’t yesterday and I know that I need to go to the bathroom – but I can’t shake this. I can’t even hold my head up when I walk. I feel so. . . so . . . embarrassed.

In my mind I’m like, “And to think, you’ve been strutting around this office and smiling at people and feeling confident and thinking you looked good and all along you’ve looked LIKE THIS!”

It’s like coming home after a night of schmoozing at a party and looking in the mirror to see that you’ve had a large piece of spinach wedged in between your two front teeth the entire night. Only it’s your whole body, and it’s all-day, every-day, and a simple piece of floss will not take care of it.

Okay – so there’s my feelings. Blah blah blah.

Will I make the commitment?

I guess only I can answer that.

12:06 p.m. ::
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