We only have a bathroom cabinet mirror at home.
This morning, while I was once again sounding off to my hubby in utter disbelief I could have let myself slide so badly, I yet again bemoaned the fact we no longer have a full length mirror.
How can get a reality check if I’ve no way of seeing myself?
I realised the irony of this statement when I then walked into the lift up to the gym and did my usual mirror avoidance dance. The gym is four floors below my workplace so this is a lift I’m in at least 4 times a day – more when there are binge runs to be done. This lift is a veritable hall of mirrors. So reflective is every surface it’s taken a level of skill to develop the ability to defocus my eyes enough to escape a visual. Anything to avoid looking at the horror of my growing presence.
So how then is a mirror at home going to be any different?
I realised later it’s all about the environment and intent. The lift mirrors are brutal, they show every angle whether I’m ready for it or not. If I think I’ve the strength to glance at my profile view I then get an almighty shock to be presented with an uninvited backside reflection from multiple angles right next to it. This is not a safe environment. I’m neither prepared nor in control of what I’m looking at here. I realise I need to be in the right mindset, I need to pick my times.
After my workout - which is proving to be yet another ridiculously painful reminder of how far I’ve fallen - I went to the showers. Surprised to see no one else in the changing rooms for a change I started to strip off without the usual comedy privacy-wriggle and caught a glance of myself in the mirror. Feeling just that wee bit pumped and confident after my workout I didn’t look away. With cover-up towel at the ready I actually looked at myself in my undies for the first time in about seven months.
What I saw naturally horrified me but I just couldn’t see THIRTY extra kilos.
The scales have told me so.
So too has my general discomfort and all my clothes.
I’m not saying I’m carrying the weight well. I did indeed look huge. It just made me realise how inaccurate my self-body-image must have been when I was 30 kilos lighter. I didn't realise how good I had it, then fastforward a few months and I was equally unaware of how easily it was slipping away.
I’m sure it’s natural when you’ve yo-yoed as much as I have over the years to have such a disconnection, but an important part of changing myself and my size has to be the acknowledgement of just what I'm dealing with. My body image is so ridiculously screwed up I'm finding it difficult to draw myself a starting line.
So you’ll have noticed I’ve been venturing back to the gym. Food, however, is still not yet under control. I’m so damn scared to have my crutch taken away before I’ve remembered how to walk without it