The Window Doesn't Lie

Each morning I endure a barbaric process which I have dubbed the “Morning Mirror Ritual,” and today was going to be no exception. I began the ritual by choosing my daily wardrobe from my dwindling selection of pants—currently 2 pair that fit without fear of busting a seam. I then carefully selected a shirt, that if draped properly, would hopefully camouflage the portion of my stomach that insists on hanging over the top of my pants.

Once I was outfitted in my clothes, I proceeded to the bathroom to present my newly outfitted body to the mirror and hopefully gain acceptance. Some mornings it takes me twenty minutes to pick out an outfit that doesn't leave me wanting to cry. As I stepped in front of the mirror, I stood up straight and turned slightly to the side to catch a glimpse of my rear. The reflection that appeared in the mirror did not look too bad, and at that moment I thought that I sure don't look like I weight 214 pounds. I must carry it well. As I left for work, I was feeling pretty good about myself.

Fast forward to lunch. I left the office to run a couple of errands and also to take a break from the monotony of the job. As I exited the bank and strolled down the street to the bookstore, I caught a glimpse of a “plump” woman in the window of a local clothing store. The woman was slightly hunched over and her shirt had ridden up revealing a large, jolly belly protruding from her pants. It took me a few moments to realize that the overweight woman was my reflection, and I could no longer deny that I had the body shape of PacMan.

Boy, did I catch myself off guard. Had I have known that I would be viewing myself in that window, I would have stood up straight, sucked in my stomach and pulled my shirt down, but then I wouldn't have seen the real me. In the past, I would have been depressed by such an image, but now I am actually inspired by the reflection of myself. The image will remain etched in my memory as a reminder and a motivation to stay with this journey.