I have actually had a somewhat okay day today. I got some housework done, spent some time with DSB, a pretty good dinner is in the oven, and I watched an episode of “Downton Abbey.” Evening is starting to set in, however, and my good humor is vanishing. I was reminded of what happened to me a few days ago, that I didn’t ever mention because I was so ashamed.
I was at my mom’s house, and she has a full-length mirror in her entryway. My sister and I used to stand in front of it and preen for mirrors. My mom and Big Dawg would joke that we were “wearing the mirror out.” I have spent the past two years (since right before I quit Weight Watchers the last time) avoiding that mirror. Not even glancing in it, as I go up their stairs. Getting the vacuum out of the closet, not a second look. Nothing.
I don’t know what possessed me to look that day, but I did, and I was confused, at first. I simply did not recognize the stranger in the mirror. How I think of myself in my head and I how I looked in the mirror are totally different. I thought, in my head, that, although I have gained some weight, I have retained some of my cuteness. Dead wrong. There is nothing even remotely attractive about me. Except maybe my hair, which has grown out, but even that left me confused because it was much darker than what I envision it.
Since then, I’ve glanced in mirrors. Horrified, every time, to see what I have turned into. And I’m not exaggerating. I would qualify as super-morbidly obese. I am disgusting, without a doubt. I feel this sense of urgency to do something about it, something drastic. When I took DSB to his appointment on Thursday, there was a flyer for weight loss surgery. I’ve thought about it a lot in the past but have never gone through with it. Could I now?
I’ve thought about it a l0t, and the answer is, no, I don’t think I could. I truly do believe I can lose weight if I apply myself. It doesn’t help that I’ve gained 10 pounds or so since I quit smoking, but that’s not what has broken the camel’s back. It is that image of myself in the mirror, the one that I don’t recognize.
I am terrified of the health ramifications of being this overweight. So far, the only health conditions I have are sleep apnea and hypertension. At my weight, I should have elevated cholesterol and diabetes, to boot. How that has not happened by now, I don’t know. What I do know is that I am going to have to really apply myself and lose some weight. And stay quit with smoking.
All of this seems like Mission Impossible, given my mood. But, I’m not ready to die anytime soon, and I’d like to look at least a bit attractive. DSB still tells me I look good, but now I know better. Maybe in his eyes I do and I am fortunate to have a significant other that is not close-minded and can still see beauty beneath the surface. Ok, I am beyond fortunate. And he d0es love me and thinks I am pretty. Ok, ok, ok.
Still, something has to change. The depression has to go, the weight has to go, and the anxiety has to go. All of it. I lit a candle for myself tonight, which I don’t usually do (I usually reserve it for someone else), but I am going to need all the good juju I can get. Something’s gotta give.