Mirrors

Today I had decided that going to Orange Theory after working a ten hour shift in the ER was a great idea. I scheduled the class days ago, carefully packed my gym bag this morning and thought this would be just great. I am in a new job that now, at times, lets out early enough to go, so this was my first attempt. I will admit, leaving the hospital I may have turned into a foul mouthed sailor as I cursed the bitch that thought this was a good idea. It was probably a good thing multiple family members called on my way to the gym to distract me from hurting myself. Was backing out an option? Of course but the same person who scheduled this class joined a gym that charges a fee for missing class.

So, there I was, gym clothes on, trying to run and realizing after a great run yesterday, the hip was not going to do much more than an aggressive power walk (more on the hip later). Said aggressive power walk gave me some time to look in the studio mirror in front of me. It dawned on me that most mirrors are really like those funhouse mirrors from carnivals of days gone by. I can remember as a child being tentative looking at these things. I was terrified I would end up in front of the fat mirror. The one that made me look wider than I was. I loved the skinny mirror, yet at the same time, that really was a distorted image and I still could not see what skinny on me would look like.

Then there are the clothing store mirrors. The countless times I had tried stuff on in the store, deemed it acceptable on my oversized frame, only to get it home and put it on again and say to myself,"what was I thinking?"  Now I will say....I was completely vindicated in that notion when I saw a news report recently that the proverbial "skinny mirror" is actually a thing. A thing department stores pay top dollar for.

Today's look in the mirror showed me arms and my head. The rest was out of view due to the treadmill. Interestingly, despite the muscles emerging I was able to spot every flaw. Every little thing that I did not like. That seems to be a theme. My clothes have become like that fun house mirror. I hold up my pants and am wondering how on earth they would ever fit me, yet they do as if some magical transformation happens as I pull them on. They magically go from the size four that they are to the size 16 that lives in my head.  I suppose making the connection between what we see and what the world sees is a lesson I still have not quite mastered.

The good news is as I pondered the mirror and the funhouse like image I have I finished the power walk, followed by the power row and the power lifts.  Powering through these things and finding myself first off the rower, lifting the heaviest of all I was able to see the mirror is just the mirror, easily broken.  Having a power day to remind me that reducing the shakes of the image lies with the same evil bitch that booked that class. Guess she knew what she was doing after all.