We moved on the fourth of July into a house of mirrors. One full wall in the living room is floor-to-ceiling mirrors. In the master bedroom, a full mirrored wall. Multiple mirrors in both bathrooms, covering entire walls. Backs of doors: completely mirrored.
This new house is a rental, and after 6 straight months of remodeling the old house to sell, we are not particularly interested in taking on any home improvement projects. We’re not sure what would be involved in major mirror removal; what’s behind them? With our luck, we’d end up with a sheet rock job on our hands, and we’ve sworn off the rocking, taping, mudding-sanding-mudding-sanding-mudding-sanding for as long as we can.
So, the mirrors will remain. H, the resident dancing queen, is thrilled. We gave her the master bedroom* because we knew she would appreciate and use the mirrors for her barre workouts.
For a week I’ve had to contend with seeing myself repeatedly from feet to forehead. It’s painful, mostly because I imagine myself as looking so different than I actually do. I like the imagined me much better. And while other empirical evidence often conflicts with my imagined shape–having to buy a whole size bigger in shorts last month, for instance–I still have been able to sustain a pretty healthy confidence in what I imagine I look like.
However, this new clear understanding of just how wide my backside has grown in the last year is the one thing that has saved my training schedule. Not having a moose waiting for me, the south-central PA humidity, and an incredibly hilly neighborhood have all made it difficult for me to get my runs in. I persist, though, in walking down to the track on campus (mere blocks away) and circling it in mind-numbing quarter miles. Mind. Numbing.
*For those of you groaning here, know that the “master” bedroom is only the master because of the mirrors (and maybe 6 or 8 additional square feet). There is no private bath or other extravagance we’re giving up by putting her there. Plus, I don’t have to see myself immediately upon waking, which would ruin my every day.