It took me forty five minutes to get dressed today. Forty five minutes just to put my clothes on, not including the time I spent completing the rest of my morning ritual.
Not too long ago I could be out the door, teeth brushed, hair done, makeup, the whole process completed in twenty minutes.
Outfit after outfit, nothing fit the way I wanted it to. Busted zippers, shirts creeping up above the mid line, cursing the mirror, jumping up and down desperately trying to work my ass into my skinny jeans. There's supposed to be a Buddha in that mirror, but where she was this morning, I could not say.
Less than two years ago I landed my dream job and immediately started building an appropriate wardrobe. Unfortunately, it feels like everything I purchased over the last year and a half has shrunk.
Impermanence.
Twenty-fourteen, so far, seems to be a great year filled with growth, spiritual growth, personal growth, career growth, ass growth. I could do without the last one, but it is what it is.
Something about mirrors.
They have always been a fixture in my life, although laity the large mirror in our master bathroom has become a source of frustration.
Reflection is always helpful. Most of us have been told at least a time or two to turn our attention inward. But mirrors don't reflect what's really inside.
I was an awkward child - pale white skin and jet black hair. In elementary school I was often teased, and called names. Children can be so cruel.
Little me was soft and sweet, but the constant viciousness of my peers eventually rubbed that tenderness away.
Looking at that girl in the old cassette tapes, boxes spread across the dining room table, I barley recognize her, yet somehow, that was me. Just a baby stuffed into a lacy, red and white dress. . . or a girl grinning from ear to ear, building Lego worlds with the, dark haired, young boy in front of her.
How can that be us, the inner voice whispers.
Puberty really kicked in over the summer between seventh and eighth grade. With my new hormones came many new emotions, along with boobs, makeup, and a new, unimproved, attitude.
What a shame.
When I was younger, because I had a habit of looking deeply into every mirror I passed, my mother would make comments, concerned about my vanity. I never felt the need to correct her, since her assumption seemed to imply the confidence that I was trying to portray to the world.
I reflect back on that, stick thin, teenager, desperately trying find her own identity. It can feel impossible when the entire world is demanding you to conform to its tragically modern ways.
These memories bring me mixed emotions. She was a bitch on the outside, but deep down she was putting up walls of protection.
She could stand transfixed in the mirror for hours, applying layers of makeup. Now determined not to be picked on, even if it meant becoming the bully herself. When did this unfortunate transformation happen?
That foolish girl, working so hard to be beautiful on the outside, so distracted. She didn't even notice how ugly her insides had already become. She was loosing herself.
I feel the urge to hug that girl. I want to tell her it will all be alright and then somehow shake her out of her foolishness. What a nightmare. Thank goodness I woke up.
In more recent days, I care much less about what other people think of me, but I still find myself critiquing in the mirror. It's funny. I don't
think I care what other people think, but I don't want to just "let it all go" either.
Where are my tight tummy and well defined biceps hiding? Are they still in there somewhere, or have hours of time at the gym been wasted? At this moment I am leaning closer to my second answer.
I'll really be kissing that "yoga butt" goodbye if I don't change something soon.
Aging is inevitable. Impermanence is a very central Buddhist teaching. I guess I need to spend more time reflecting on this, but still I am not ready to give up my fitness.
This body is the only on I have, and we're going to be together till the end, and who knows when that will be. Me and my body might as well be good friends and if I get to choose or have any influence, I'd rather it not be falling apart in old age.
Who we really are cannot be found in the mirror. I know that now. It is all superficial and the mirror is just a tool, although on some days it might be a tool that we could be happier without.
In the mean time, since we are not going renovate the master bathroom in our new home anytime soon, the new me and I are going to work on getting better acquainted.
With a little humor, and a fair amount self compassion, I think everything is going to be just fine. I'm not quite thirty yet, and if I'm lucky, I've still got a long way to go.
Here's to getting older, and to all the Dharma gates that aging can inevitably bring our way.
