This body talk is toxic. It can really bring a girl down, man. Lately, I've noticed it has made me more aware of my own silhouette... its fleshy curves and soft padding. How could I not be impacted in this way? Women have approached me with unwarranted comments about my body, blurring the boundary lines of my personal space. They wonder how much weight I have lost, what I plan on doing to release some more, how I'm eating... blah, blah, blah! Can you tell I am so over this dribble?! With everything going on in the world today aren't there more important issues at stake? Why are people so closed to meaningful dialogue? Why are we so content to skim the surface instead of scratching the veneer to see the depth of what lies within?
I recently experienced this body fixation at a gathering. It was a healing circle for my friend who has been diagnosed with cancer. We were raising such beautiful energy. We were gathered in numbers and strength in a spirit of love. The power of that intention was palpable. Then it seeped in... like a disease... infecting and consuming every healing thought in its path. Body talk.
I am the largest woman in the room. I am that white elephant that gives rise to discomfort. People notice my difference, but pretend my plus-size has escaped their attention. Instead, they talk around me as if I am none the wiser. It's almost as if my presence compels women to rebuke all things fat lest my obesity rub off on them. The experience had a powerful effect on me, prompting me to respond in a rather radical, unconventional way.
I am answering the call by spending the next year of my life unencumbered by mirrors. A year without reflection to deepen my reflection. A journey of self-discovery to see what lies beyond the looking glass.
My bathroom mirror has been covered by a sign bearing a sunny smiley face exclaiming, "You are gorgeous!" The mirror in the garage that I used to work out in front of is being dismantled. I want to sense and feel my body instead of defining myself according to labels of beauty seen in a reflection. I have recently caught myself on the way to the shower, scanning my profile in the mirror, noting how far my tummy sticks out. I've witnessed the reemergence of body consciousness. I'm nipping it in the bud... pulling it out of the garden of my soul like so many weeds. I will not let its intrusion over-grow and invasively consume the fresh growth I have nurtured and lovingly tended to.
Maybe I sound a little kooky, a bit eccentric, or a tad extreme. I don't know what it will be like to live life without mirrors. Will my perception of self shift without having my reflection to define me? How will my identity morph as I base my experience of myself on what I feel, rather than what I see? Will I be able to connect more deeply with the true source of my being? Will I find the bounty of my mojo there waiting for me... a treasure chest overflowing with the promise of a juicy life bursting with ripeness? I don't know, but it seems an intriguing experiment. They say that curiosity killed the cat, but this feline knows that satisfaction is what brought it back. This kitten is ready to get her purr on. The wild unbridled woman in me can't help but go there and challenge the confines of normalcy.