I don't go to the mall that often, it's not something that I enjoy enough to just go there to hang out. Things cost too much, people are too fancy for my taste, all the ladies seem to be polished and shined and here I am in my ripped jeans that don't fit quite right and my dirty old Converse.
Strange then, it seems, that I've had two life altering experiences in malls over the years.
The first time, I was at the mall for a haircut and some make up shopping. I was 16 and experiencing my first days of true freedom. I had a job so a little money, a car, no boyfriend to hold me back or monopolize my time and it was my day off.
As I'm known to do, I was people watching as I walked through the mall from the salon to the parking lot. It was 1996 and the "muzak" version of some Madonna song was piped through hidden speakers and nearly drowned out by the voices of shoppers and teenagers who had nothing better to do than to loiter around the food court. There were skylights and the corridor that I was in was lined with mirrors, so the Pacific North West summer sunshine (we have the most beautiful summers here) was magnified and every thing seemed clear.
As I walked, I glimpsed a girl with long dark hair and a stylish outfit walking near me in the mirror. "Oh, what a pretty girl!" I thought, "I wish I looked like her..." I kept walking and then glanced again, as one does when they see something their eye is attracted to. To my shock, there was no other girl walking near me. The girl WAS there though. It was me.
In one unsuspecting moment, I had seen myself the way other people must see me. Without a cloud of judgement and self criticism to point out my scars, my fat thighs, my short legs...Just a glance and a "Oh, what a pretty girl..."
This was one of the best gifts that I could have been given and when I'm feeling bad about myself, the way I look, I remind myself of it. It's bolstered me and given me confidence when I otherwise wouldn't have wanted to leave the house.
Today I had another such moment, though not exactly the same.
I've been starving myself for 4 days. I don't have a diagnosed eating disorder, but I can fall into a pattern of disordered eating and I'm sorry to say I've envied the will power of those with eating disorders in my weaker moments. My Birthday is coming up, along with our vacation and even more quickly, my Lady's Night/Getaway. I'll be staying in a hotel with a pool this weekend, so I need a swim suit. I've put off getting one since the twins were born because I can't bear to see myself in one. Hence the crash diet.
I know all about how terrible they are, how they don't work, how you gain it all back, how it slows your metabolism and how it's just not good for you.
Still, I have been having a diet energy drink for breakfast, a protein bar for lunch, and a tiny bit for dinner, all in the hopes that by Saturday, I'll be 11 pounds lighter and I'll look like Jennifer Aniston. This is the power/danger of magical thinking, I guess.
I found a swim suit, which is a miracle in itself, really, and decided to burn some calories. I convinced my 37 pound three year old to sit in the stroller with his little brother and then I strapped the displaced twin on my back, and I started walking. Fast.
3 laps around the Super Mall later I was breathing heavily enough and sweating enough that I was embarrassed by it, and I was heading out the door, feeling out of shape and about as fat and ugly as I've ever felt. Then I saw her.
She was gaunt, a skeleton with skin, and she looked enough like an old friend I used to know that I met her eyes and searched her face to see if it really might be her. No, it wasn't, but she locked eyes with me as she passed any way and mouthed the words carefully "You are strong." I smiled and thanked her and walked, more slowly, out the door.
I AM STRONG. In more ways than one, but most relevant, physically. I may be 11 pounds heavier than I want to be, but these big thighs sure can carry a load. I may be a tiny person but I've never been held back by lack of physical strength, I've always found a way to do what I need to get done, most often without help from any body else.
The messenger was an example of what I don't want to be. I don't know that she was anorexic, maybe it's something else, but she did not look well enough to be race walking through the mall in her sweats, and yet she was, so thin that it was shocking...Is this the will power that I have envied?
I'll gladly trade it for my strength.
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