171. (Or, The Mirror Lies.) − 23 March, 2008
Today I weigh 171 pounds.
A year ago, I weighed 261.
Ninety pounds, gone, in the space of a year.
Why, then, when I look in the mirror, do I see exactly the same person?
The Mirror Lies. At least to me.
I.
You may have noticed I don't post a lot of pictures of myself on this blog. As I explained before: people hear with their eyes, sometimes -- it's a human failing.
I don't want my looks to influence opinion of my music one way or another. You can probably dash off a list of talentless hack singers who get by on dance moves, cosmetic surgery, and the most superficial glamour. They are image only. And there are incredibly talented singers out there who fear singing in public because they don't have "the look."
Well, I'm no singer. I'm an instrumental musician. Nevertheless, I'd rather have my music speak for itself. Less of me, except for the parts that count -- the ideas, the feelings, the technical elements, all the things that went into each song.
And then there's something stranger . . . .
II.
The mirror lies. I see the same person day after day, and have been seeing that person since roughly 1985. My weight has gone up and down. Unlike most guys you know, I've changed hairstyles roughly every 6 months to 2 years -- it was shoulder length a year ago, it was close cut 6 months ago, and now it's medium length.
But I'm always me.
Even when I weighed 261 lbs, I could only tell how bad things were on the dog walk at night. I'd see my shadow go by as we passed under the streetlights. It looked like some sort of ogre.
And now? I can see my own shadow in the setting sun. It's not mine. It doesn't match the person I see in the mirror. It's thin, maybe a bit boyish now. My wife says I look like I'm in my 20s (guess she ignores the grey hairs that pop up every now and then).
Still, I can't tell the difference when I look in a mirror.
III.
Maybe this ties into my notorious difficulty in remembering faces. I seem to have something extra where remembering stories, music, or facts is concerned. Maybe my brain just chucked out that area that's responsible for categorizing things by their appearance, or recognizing those subtle differences between human faces. I passed the savings on to the other areas, possibly, like the urban legend about folks who are blind having enhanced hearing (a friend of mine from high school -- JoAnn Presley -- told me that was a lie. She'd had first hand experience in that field for years, thanks to some childhood glaucoma. According to her, it's not extra ability, it's just the fact there's not much else to focus on.)
IV.
I've entered a bizarre parallel world. Here, gravity appears to be less than I'm used to. Today, as I finished putting in the floor in the master bedroom, I remember pulling hard on one of the boards to fit it into place. Instead of the board sliding in, I actually pulled myself across the floor.
When I demonstrated it to my wife, she said I was sliding around like a hockey puck.
Ah, but you see, a year ago -- gravity would have been strong enough to hold me in my place. A year ago, Newton's favorite conservative force field pulled me to Earth hard enough that I broke a piano bench during a particularly impassioned fit of playing (it was an early draft of the second song on La vie sous la mer.)
V.
This is not a downer of a post. I'm actually happy. Losing 90 pounds is quite an achievement. The big challenge will be maintaining it for the next ... oh, what do I have left ... 10 years? 20? 5? The dice are still tumbling on that one.
However, one year later, and I realize this:
You can escape from a worldly prison. You can even escape from the prison of your own flesh.
But the prison inside -- and the prisoner in the mirror . . . that will take more doing.
Comments:
peahayes (March 24, 2008. 03:38am)
Thanks for sharing. Very nice piece.
intrepideddie (March 25, 2008. 01:13am)
171... damn, that's impressive. And in just one year. Congrats on the milestone! Perhaps I'm being obtuse, but maybe the reason you're seeing the same person in the mirror is, well, you ARE the same person. Just a few pounds lighter. That's a good thing, right? I have a problem with the opposite... I look in the mirror and I see the person I *want* to be -- better father, better husband, and abs you could wash your clothes on.