Who is that lady in the mirror?

When you see my professional photo, you see something a bit different than you see when you see me in person. That picture was taken 3 years ago and was Photoshopped to smooth out the lines and puffiness, and take off a few pounds. At the time, I was losing weight and was hoping to take off more than a few pounds and find a way to smooth out the lines in real life and I didn’t want a fat, lined image to haunt me for eternity once I did that.

But reality has turned out differently. Instead of losing weight, I gained it. Instead of less lines, more. And I don’t even want to talk about puffiness! While I’m sure my swimming is trimming me down, I don’t know that I’ll ever look exactly like that picture again. And that has to be okay.

Yesterday, I was preparing to go out shopping for the garden, and because I was hot from being outside and my hair felt like a blanket and looked pretty funky from letting it dry naturally after swimming the evening before, I put it up in a French twist and clamped it in place. It looked fine—presentable, at least—but I knew Jermayn (my hairstylist) would be mortified if she saw it. Thankfully, I wasn’t going to be anywhere close to the hair salon.

As I inspected the back and sides in the mirror to be sure it was up securely and nothing was sticking out, I saw the profile of a chubby old lady with a double chin and bifocals. My first thought was, “Wow! I’m wearing a strange disguise to go out in the world!”

Because, of course, internally, I may always imagine myself the young, slim beauty of my 20s and 30s. Even though it really is strange to look so different on the outside than I feel on the inside, there’s a certain relief involved. And a realization that no one here in Denver is looking at me and comparing me to my youthful self. (Of course, it’s a different story in North Carolina!)

I sincerely doubt anyone I meet here on the street is thinking, “Boy—she’s really let herself go.” They just see a middle-aged, overweight lady with a kind face, twinkle in her bifocaled eye, and a bit of a limp, and I now realize if they feel pity for me at all, it’s their own fear of aging at the root of it.

Accepting myself no matter what—quite a cool concept. I may get the hang of it yet! And soon I may even have a new professional photo taken—one that shows me more realistically. But I really, really want to swim off a few more inches first…(grin)

Oh—and a little P.S.—As I was bent over with my nose buried in the herbs at the garden center yesterday afternoon, I heard a voice call out, “Well look who’s here!” When I looked up, it was Jermayn, my aforementioned hairdresser. In the five years she has done my hair, I have never, EVER run into her anywhere. I’ve only ever seen her at the beauty salon. She didn’t say she was mortified at my hair, but when I told her what I had been thinking before I left the house, she didn’t reassure me with, “Oh—you look fine,” either! And that’s perfectly alright.