An Uncomfortable Moment

Danny is in Paris for a week. It is no secret that I don't like to be alone. I think giving up TV for our 40 (46) day fast couldn't have come at a worse time. I know I'm suppose to be thinking about that differently but I'd be lying if I told you any different. Technically, I am not alone. I have my gorgeous girls next to me - right now, in fact. However, at 8pm, when they go to bed, the house will be completely silent and will remain that way until my alarm clock goes off at 5am tomorrow morning.

While my best friend is gone I am keeping with the daily routine: work, keeping a spotless house (it's on the market again), cooking dinner, taking care of kids/dogs, laundry, and - going to the gym. Danny has mentioned in a not-so-subtle way (okay, completely blunt and somewhat rude...) that I have been less than eager to go back to the gym daily. So, while he's globe-trotting, I'm making myself abide by our daily ritual. I've gone to the gym. I've gotten on that treadmill. I've busted a sweat. And Ive done it - alone. No TV means no TV at the gym either. No mind-numbing distractions...oh, no. I get to watch the minutes pass painfully slow on the machine. Today, however, I found myself staring into the partly-cloudy skies in front of me. I pushed the incline to 10 and the MPH to 2.5. A nice slow walk up a hill. I was kind of dazed... not really sure what was going through my mind. I looked down and noticed my lumpy thighs in my too-tight spandex Capri's. I remember thinking "why don't I have nice legs like most other girls? I mean, I have strong legs...I cycle... why can't they be toned & defined?". Then, I looked up. Straight ahead.

The TV on the treadmill was off and the blank scren acted as a mirror. I saw two people running on other treadmills behind me. When I re-focused I saw my reflection staring back at me. I could see my face well. I could see the beads of sweat on my brow and I could see my hazel eyes. For a moment, I studied my face. I didn't know who I was. I'm not sure how long I stared at myself but it was long enough to make me highly uncomfortable. As I looked away I thought about how strange is was that looking myself in the eyes would make me so uneasy. But yet, it did. I looked straight down at my feet. Then, I looked back to the partly-cloudy skies. Eventually, I looked back into my eyes and tried to "face myself". You know what? I couldn't. I realized looking myself in the face - that I don't know who that girl is. I felt my eyes stinging ... holding back the tears. I knew that walking on the treadmill and crying like a child is not what the people at the YMCA would have wanted ... so I fought it off.

Don't get me wrong, I've looked at myself before. Heck, I looked at myself tonight when I waxed my eyebrows! But - I don't think I've ever taken the time to LOOK at myself. I think I know myself pretty well... and know what I would do in any given situation but now, I wonder how true that is? I think I am so ashamed by my physical appearance that I spend very little time looking at myself, much less actually SEEING me. I was so uncomfortable... As strange as it sounds, it was almost too personal. Intrusive. "Deep". Painful. Too much to handle in my 30 minute limit on the treadmill.

And I don't know where this leaves me? I wish I had a way to end this blog all wrapped up neatly with some deep words of wisdom the Holy Spirit imparted to me during my silent tread up-hill but - I do not.

I just have wonder... Wondering what it meant...that I couldn't look myself in the eye.

Maybe before bed I'll get my hand-held mirror out, and try to come to grips with that.


Until then...