Mirror, Mirror

"I don't ever think of myself as a fat person until I look in the mirror."

 I thought this was an odd thing for a person to say. But when a coworker said it to me a few days ago I agreed. I realize now I have the same quirk. But sometimes my mirrors are other people and not just the glass that reflects my image. My husband is incredibly athletic with a thin build that betrays his ability to consume a large dinner and beer. When we are together I often compare myself to him and feel wrong somehow. As if I am in the wrong body. I'm the girl and yet I am not as small framed as he is. And I often wonder if we make a laughable couple. A real life Mr. and Mrs. Jack Spratt.  I walk past other women on a daily basis of all shapes and sizes and find my gaze lingering on the frail, or delicate girls with flat chests and narrow waists. I don't find the spray tanned athletic blondes with their Juicy emblazoned shorts all that appealing and yet I envy them as much as their petite counterparts. They make being pretty, thin and young seem easily attainable.

I have my curvy crushes as well. I love Christina Hendricks for her talent and her ability to wear her curves with class and pride. And she's always well coiffed and dressed. I would kill to look like her. Then I remember I am curvy. I have a few extra pounds as well but I am curvy. And yet, I am not satisfied and I still compare.

Today I saw myself as everyone else does and I was surprised. As I walked across campus to meet about my never ending project/thesis I saw myself in the glass of the university library. Funny thing was I was happy with my appearance until that moment. As I dressed this morning I thought I felt good, comfortable, rested, healthy and happy.  But still the reflection contradicted my mood. I noticed that roundness of my body. The girth of my once small waist and athletic body.  I sighed and climbed the stairs to the library. I got little work done at the library and returned home in an effort to avoid the skinny girl at the computer across from me slurping her venti java chip frappucino with whipped cream. Ugh. I remembered my husband telling me that "people like that tend to live a life around the gym and generally aren't happy." That's his mantra for me when I feel fat or low.

I realize how evil my mirror truly is. Much like the favored one of Snow White's wicked queen that reflected her beautiful and  appropriately green eyes it is fickle, cruel, and brutally honest. I tried to shrug off the bad feeling on my drive home from campus. But it lingered, poisoning my efforts to write, or get genuine work done. I hear my husband coming home from work and  I force myself to return to my life,the life I think is great until I  look at the mirror. I guess the question of the day is do we forgo the mirror entirely? Images of shattered broken glass and being blissfully ignorant of my expanding waistline confuse and frighten me. Perhaps we should  ask the mirror to be honest but kinder. We want the mirror to reflect  a clearer representation of us,  a representation that shows how even with our flaws someone else out there loves us for us.