Reflections

I used to wonder why my big sis kept a diary? How odd to write your thoughts, right? Guess I truly am a late bloomer because now I commit my thoughts to paper, or in my case blog. I am thinker, seriously I'm striking that pose right now..

I was joking just this week about being in my own world other wise known as the techni-coloured space that is my head. I love it there to be honest but since I do have to live in the real world..it’s the one with actual food, I write so I can get back to the world with coffee machines and cookie stashes (still working/not working on healthy eating habits). And I share these mind-crinkles because maybe they are relatable or at least they make me feel just as wacky but at least relatable.

I write about m running and the sense of accomplishment that gives me. And while that is still the case, this thought is on the flip side. The side that the mirror shows..the reflection. Trust me, as I pant my way through a work-out I’m not thinking about clothes or the way I look in them nor even imagined that it would have an impact on that aspect. I work-out for the accomplished feeling it gives me. So much so I set a new goal. One that requires even more work but that gives me energy because I love trying. I really, really do. Odd as heck to say, because till I turned 30 I thought exercising was odd and only something you did to loose weight if crash-dieting didn’t work not that I dieted. Actually everything changed when I turned 30, but that’s a story for another time. Back to the reflection…

You cannot depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus ~ Mark Twain

I think that sums it up. I am enormously critical of myself, was horribly teased from preschool into adulthood and so my reflection was something to avoid. I literally wouldn’t look at myself after I got dressed in the morning (lipstick smeared on teeth is not a good look and no one tells you, argh). Didn’t wear half of what I bought because my body wasn’t good enough after shopping euphoria wore off. Only joined Facebook so I could monitor for fugly pics. Will not look at a photo after it’s taken, hence the horrible passport and licence photo’s. I took a picture after I got dressed so I could criticise myself in detail the rest of the day, coupled with a most horrendous nickname for myself. What I saw was never what I wanted. Ever. No matter how much effort I put in or how confident I seemed I was never comfortable and therefore never proud. My focus was set to ugly and unappreciative and so I rarely saw anything else.

I started working out regularly after my second bundle of joy otherwise know as stretchmark city, kicked it up a notched when I turned 30 because that milestone scared me and bumped it up further in May when I started over. It’s then I started with the weekly routine I now do that consists of cardio, power yoga, running and daily core exercises. Each time I make it through, whether flying or by the skin of my teeth, I feel great and that, that changed my focus. My focus is not on what I can’t, what I don’t have or have too much of. The focus is what I can, what I have and exactly as it is..now. 

Not an overnight status change, because I had nightmares a couple of weeks in that my calves were out of proportion and gasp..muscular. My body changed, ever so slightly but from crown to tip. Yes, my calves are taunt..with muscle. My slight double chin became slighter. My arms don’t flab about but instead have a vein that pops from shoulder to wrist esp. after a workout. My waist is trimmer, better than before kids and then some. My cup no longer runneth over. Okay, that last one still has me. But overall I feel and look more glowy for lack of a better word. 

Someone told me ‘gosh, I don’t even recognise you from that photo’, even though the photo wasn’t that old. Had the same feeling when I saw some photos from a super carefree period (ah, college days). Another answered ‘you might be surprised to find now jealously instead’ when I said I was the teased one. I immediately thought 'wat een lariekoek’ because I still couldn’t see it. It took me a good while to look at me and be happy with me. But each time I looked I saw something that I liked more and more; strength. I earned it. Me, just me, me as I am now. I see strength, because i feel strong. Not only physical strength because heck my knees buckle more often than not when my four year throws herself at me with all her youthful energy. But a strength that stems both from being fit and from being confident and passionate about my life and that was always the centre of my ideal woman..A confident sense of self!

And so at the same time my physical appearance changed, so did my outlook but accelerated. That shift in focus made me appreciative and made me pretty, far more than the smaller physical changes. I still take my picture in the morning and only after a good long look but now more often than not think I look damn good and that terrible nickname is my 'who shall not be named' (geeks will get the reference).

I like the reflection I see now because I like the person I am. Strong, inside and out! And so there is more interest in fashion and yep I wear those clothes previously squished in the back and reserved for a ‘better me’. I place pictures of myself instead of asking them to be taken down. Slouch gone, chin up, chest out.

My eyes finally see in my reflection a strong, positive, appreciative, accepting and stunning me; Fit! I see that because that is who I am.

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are ~ Anais Nin

P.S. Because tailoring sizes down is expensive and leaves a less than desirable fit and just because I love fashion, I will be doing a post about replenishing my wardrobe.,or the start of!