Let me start with a simple fact, and, yes, I'm bragging a little. I'm very proud of myself for having lost a solid 25 pounds since the beginning of February. I now weigh less than I have in over 15 years. It's only a small portion of what I need to lose, but it's still huge. I feel much better, and I'm better able to do the activities I want to do.
This evening I went to a Spinning class for the first time in over three months. I've been cycling a lot during that time (just over 600 miles as of Sunday), and have even been doing a little running, but I decided it would be good to get my butt kicked by someone else a couple of times a week again.
Kicked it got. My left knee griped at me thanks to all the high-intensity standing pedaling, and I realized just how not in shape I am.
I also got to see myself in a lot of very large mirrors. Wall-covering mirrors.
In addition to feeling better, I also know I've been looking better. I've lost a clothing size or two, and many people have commented that I look great. I've been more pleased by what I see in the mirror.
Until tonight.
Surrouned by uber-fit Sarah, our instructor, two other women much thinner than I, and a young male Coastie, I felt like a mountain of flabby flesh. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that's what I saw every time I glimpsed myself in the mirror.
Gone was the improved Sharry. Returned was Mount Sharry.
Holy crap. How is it possible that one's self-image can change so drastically?
My logical mind knows that neither self-image is truly accurate. I am not slim and fit and gorgeous. Nor, however, am I a horrendous pile of fat thinly disguised by skin. It just simply baffles me that I can see both Sharry's in the mirror within a short period of time.
Now would be the time to start haranguing popular media for instilling in women unrealistic ideas of what they should look like, but that wouldn't be fair. Don't get me wrong, I do think that's true, but it's not my issue. I know I don't, can't, look like a supermodel. I'm 46, for heaven's sake. I didn't have that kind of figure when I was 17 and thin. At this point, I just want to be the best me I can be.
But how will I know when I'm there? Will it be when the scale reaches some magic number, one I haven't even settled on yet? Or when I can wear a certain size clothing? Or when I'm happy with what I see in the mirror?
I know the number-based answers are wrong. And clearly I can't trust what I see in the mirror. What's the answer then?
Logically, I know the answer should be based on being healthy and being satisfied with my ability to do the activities I want to do. But when has logic ever ruled our self-perceptions? Besides, I'm getting older, and every day 50 looms closer. No matter how hard I fight it, and I'm fighting hard, my body's ability to do will decrease every year.
Bah! Humbug! Clearly the answer is to just avoid mirrors. Anyone want to join me at the shooting range to bust up a few?
