I don't remember really looking in the mirror as a child. I'm sure I did . . . I remember what I looked like as a child, right? Or maybe that's from photographs . . .
As an adult, I find myself looking in the mirror all the time . . . Look, I've got three new gray hairs, yea! (rolls eyes) These wrinkles on my forehead are becoming so much more distinct . . . does everyone else see them, too? I bet my teeth could be whiter . . . why is this one so crooked? My eyebrows grow funny. They aren't symmetrical. Are they supposed to be symmetrical? Maybe that's normal. Why can't my skin look smooth? What is that stuff that you can get that makes the saggy spots plumper? Oh, come on . . . I know I saw it somewhere . . . I wonder how much that is . . .
If you asked me right now what I looked like, I could give you a detailed description of my face. I have looked at it a million times. I've concentrated on it. I've explored my reflection. I can tell you the details of my own face better than I could my children's. What does that say?
I was thinking about the statement yesterday about how you can't really see you, how when you see your reflection, you're really looking at your body through the eyes of an observer. I think that's true -- to an extent. You aren't an objective observer. Your image is affected by your knowledge of you -- your history, your sensory perception, your attention to change.
The question of the validity of my observations led me back to the dressing room observation. Logic says if I pick out clothes that are too small for me, it's because I think I'm smaller than I really am. When I look in the mirror, I see someone different than I am in reality.
Just a little tangent here -- do you think anorexic women pick out clothes that are too big for them when they go shopping? Do you think they walk up to the rack and pick up a ten because in their minds, they are tens and then they stand there perplexed when their pants fall off? Just a curiosity.
At what point do you actually become conscious of that person in the mirror? Anyone who's been around babies has played the fascinating game of "Who do you see? I see you! Do you see the baby? Do you?" The baby smiles, touches it's reflection. Does it know it's it? Or does it think it is another baby? Why do we suddenly become so enamored with that person in the mirror? Is it because we are trying to figure out who we are and we can only do that by trying to see ourselves as others see us?
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hi, rebecca. you're right, like most everyone else, anorexic women (and men) don't see an accurate reflection of themself when they look in the mirror; however, most anorexic women (even those in denial) aren't oblivious to their condition. they notice others' looks of pity. they overhear snide comments "whispered" as they pass. many of them are receiving treatment - physical and psychological - for their illness.
ReplyDeletemost of the anorexic women and men i know don't go shopping at all. the reasons for this are many and unique to each individual. eating disorders have nothing to do with vanity, and most anorectics are too depressed to care what they look like. they're also often too weak and tired to shop. many of them can't stand the feeling of clothing - or anything - else touching their body, making shopping for clothes painful, and as you can imagine, it's a pain in the (bony) ass to find clothes that fit.
often, i know, you'll see an anorectic wearing a large, ill-fitting outfit, but most likely, it's not because they think their clothes fit, it's because nothing fits. unless they get things tailored, they're stuck, but again, most either don't care enough to fuss with vanity or would prefer to wear baggy clothes to hide their bodies from gawking strangers and from loved ones trying to "help" them.
as for when and why we begin fixating on person in the mirror, i think that's also individual. i was in elementary school when my classmates and parents pointed out my "third-boob," as some of my guy "friends" called it. suddenly, i was obsessed. once the guys started calling me cyclops, i became obsessed with how close together my eyes are. the examples could continue forever, but what's more important, i think, is when i stopped fixating.
i can't put my finger on the exact date or year, but there was a point at which i just got sick of fixating. bored with myself, i guess. there was a point that i realized i was fixating on the external because i was dissatisfied with the internal. we're forced to look at our physical reflection much more frequently than we're forced to look at our character. the physical is so much more tangible than the emotional. and in most cases, we can hire someone to fix our physical flaws, but no one but ourselves can make us nicer or more genuine.
do i think i'm perfect? of course not. i think almost everything can be improved. am i aware of my physical shortcomings? uh huh, and i do what i can to fix them or make myself more comfortable with them. i take care of myself. it makes me feel good. what doesn't make me feel good is obsessing about perceived flaws that i cannot (or will not) change.
(that said, i don't feel like this every day. i'm not immune to PMS or others' comments. i have my bad days, but they're just days.)
i watch and listen to some of my absolutely beautiful friends pick themselves apart. they're not doing it for attention. they're not doing it for reassurance. they're doing it because they're painfully dissatisfied with parts of themselves - and not just the physical. i feel their pain. i mean, i really feel it. i feel for them because i've felt for myself, but there's nothing like that vicarious torment to get me smiling at my reflection in the mirror.
you're right. i'm not an objective observer of myself (or of my friends). it's my history that allows me to be so accepting of my appearance. sometimes i wonder if i'm too satisfied. i wonder if there are glaring flaws i'm not aware of, but here's the thing, we can't control others' perceptions. the only thing we can control is how we present ourselves, and if we're comfortable with that, little else matters. :-)
That stuff that plumps is Avon Hydrofirming Lifting Day Cream; my sister sells it. There are all kinds: oil of olay (oil of old lady I used to call it in my youth), Mary Kay and several others make stuff that firm and it's not too extravagant to buy. (I got some when I realized I needed to photoshop a picture of me before I posted it on myspace.)
ReplyDeleteI used to fixate in the mirror for hours at a time when I was little and well into my 20s because I'd experiment with several outfits and hair styles before I left the house. Now I just add a little make-up (which is like a real-world photoshop application) and go with whatever fits comfortably since some of my clothes fit the girl I used to see in the mirror and not me.
I stare at my son a lot. He has my eyebrow (but I make mine into two:). There are things I don't like and things that adore when I look at him and think "I made that!" I'm amazed at the ability to make a person. I'd never even considered it until it happened, really, and suddenly everything about my body changed completely. My pants didn't fit right for years! And it was a stranger in the mirror. Sometimes I wonder what happened to the other body in the mirror because somehow it isn't as much fun to try on every outfit in my wardrobe in front of the mirror before I leave the house. I don't always like it but I guess things happen that way; reminds me of an old poem. Everything changes and it's just perspective whether or not it's good.
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
In class we mentioned a Buddhist train of thought and it reminded me also that Buddhist's believe everything is temporary. If I hate my body in this life, I'm suffering because in my next life, I'll have an awesome body; this is temporary. And how I perceive the body in the mirror is good or bad, not the change itself because changes are going to happen regardless.
So instead of hours trying on outfits, I'm back to the teen-age obsession of trying on faces with different lifting creams! And wax. Ah, change; lots of different golds and greens.