The girl in the mirror

One

I was shopping last month for new clothes. When I gained back that 24 pounds a couple years ago after returning to school, I promised myself that I could have some new clothes once I got back to 175. That happened in February. I had found a few things here and there, but hadn't really gotten around to serious shopping.  Last month I finally gave myself permission to treat myself and spend some money; I was in Target on this day.  I still pick out the sizes I've worn for five years now, and was continually surprised by my need of smaller sizes.  Feeling good and reveling in having choices of what to purchase (when you're heavy, your choices are so limited, and I never forget to appreciate this), I was actually examining their jeans.  I was squatting down, searching for the elusive tall lengths, and happened to glance to the right as I stood up. Maybe I'd heard a voice or something caught my eye; I don't really remember. But there was a mirror there, and reflected in it I saw a woman.  I thought, "Wow, she's so beautiful. I wish I looked like that."

Almost instantaneously, I realized I was looking at myself. And I stood there for a while, confused. Disoriented. Once I really solidified the connection between my original thought and my realization, I noticed my self-destructive thoughts return: picking out the flaws on this body in the mirror, making a list of all the things that are wrong and undesirable. I recognized the dysfunction. I challenged it in my head, telling myself to stop it!  My first impression was the right one.   And I stood there a few minutes longer until I felt...affirmed.

Two

After Jen and I's ten mile run last month, as we laid stretching on the grass, she asked me if I was happy with my weight. She was quick to correct herself, asking instead if I was happy with my size. I didn't have to think about it very long before I replied, slowly as it dawned on me, "Yyyeeesss.  Yes, I think I am!"  And I'm still surprised by my response.  When I was a 22, I imagined a 16 or maybe even a 14. I got to a 16 and felt great - that was my 7th grade size!  When I'd found myself back in a 24, all I dreamed of was being well again, seeing a 16 again, and being able to fit into the Rubbermaids of smaller, cute clothes that were down in the basement. I never truly considered the possibility I'd see a 12, which is where I've been for five years now - I would laugh it away as impossible whenever the thought entered my mind.  I regained that bit for a year, and I kept squeezing myself oh-so-uncomfortably into those 12s, but now I'm a 10.

I still can't believe that when I type it.  Although I can document my weights and sizes at different points on the path, I still don't obsess over or attach a lot of meaning to it.  I think that's a good thing, but perhaps I should also own my achievement.  When a goal takes so long to reach, even as you come close you remain somewhat distant from it. I'm so used to striving and goal-setting I forget how to just settle and enjoy where I'm at.  (Thank you to yoga for helping to cultivate this.)  How could I not be happy with this? I am smaller than I've ever been in my remembered life.  And far more importantly, I feel good.

Thanks for that question Jen.  How I've not realized this before, I don't know, but I'm happy here. Any further weight loss now is somewhat coincidental, as a result of and to benefit my running...because I'm actually fine with my size!

Three

I took a lot of photos in Colorado, but perhaps not surprisingly, none of myself. I didn't realize until the final day that I really wanted a picture of myself against the mountains, just to reflect on: "Yes, I really was there." My roommate Rachael had offered to let me keep my luggage in her car since check-out was before Sunday's final class, and we arranged to share our last lunch together before I had to catch my shuttle back to Denver. We ate quickly, dragged my things out of her trunk and walked to the courtyard. I was originally going to just stand there and smile, but as I let my mind meander through the possibilities (and since no one was going to see this but me), it came to me that there is one pose I love more than any: vrksasana. Tree pose. All of my asana practice is gorgeous and rewarding, but the first time I ever landed solidly in tree pose, raising both arms and eyes to the sky with outer and inner steadiness, I felt warmth and joy pouring straight down from the heavens, spreading through my arms, and into my heart. A smile spread over my face, and I laughed as I cried with the sensation. It was the only pose to do as I said goodbye.

Rachael was hesitant to photograph me, saying that she's a terrible photographer. I told her I was just going to stand there for as long as I could, and she could take as many or as few as she was able and at whichever angle that felt right to her. When I came down I had less than ten minutes until departure, and since I spent the whole of the commute chatting with Jaime from San Diego, I didn't even look at the photos until I was waiting at my gate.

As when I was in Target, I felt the disconnect again. I don't recognize that body as my own; I'm still expecting to see my largest self.   In this picture, I saw not so much beauty as I saw steadiness, grace, and power, and those things surprised me just as much as the image in the mirror. I love the strength and form of my shoulders, the solidity and balance in my leg. What I love even more is what you can't see: the glow across my face, and the settledness in my heart.

Arriving home, I decided to share it after all and set it as my profile picture.  As we caught up a few days later, Lorrie commented on the photo.   I tried to explain how the picture makes me feel, and said that I wish I could embody within my daily life those feelings of power, grace, and strength that I gather when I view the photo. I said that, "I don't recognize myself when I look at this." My friend is familiar with my misconceptions of myself, but she just kept repeating to me, "Amanda - this is what we see. When we look at you...this is what we see!! What you're seeing is what we're always trying to tell you!"

Really?

Really?

Maybe I'm finally starting to get it.

She told me to blow it up, frame it, and place it where I would see it every day. I haven't yet.

But I will.