I enjoyed a simple pleasure, I liked my reflection in a mirror.
I am picking clothes I look good in. I am tucking in my shirt, because damn, I look better that way. I’m rolling up my cuffs. Why? It makes my thick legs look even bigger of course.
I am worth dressing.
I saw a post reminding me how improbable this joy once was. It was talking about his dread of being in public. I understood completely. I could function, but many times it was forced. Passing through crowds was a series of micro battles. The higher the ratio of male to females, straight to gay the more daunting the challenge. I particularly hated places with mirrors, bathrooms and department stores. It was brutale seeing myself reflected back. I didn’t need to see how hideous I was. I didn’t want to see the reflection of the person I hated so much.
Fast forward and I am now daily using a mirror at the gym. I admit, it’s hard to get started if I am not at my own gym or around people I know. But I made myself do it. And now, more often than not, I like the man I see looking back.
So many moments have built this strange new world. My work on my body has allowed the work on my head, which in turn worked on my heart. They cycle through and feed each other.