Mirror, Mirror Off the Wall

by Kjerstin Gruys

  I was practically speechless. I’d run out of my planned questions, so I just stammered my thanks and promised to send Sherry a copy of my blog post before I published it.

  I sat for a while after we hung up. I read over my notes and filled in a few spots I’d forgotten to write up. And then I just thought for a while, journaling.

  Everything had become so much clearer: Sherry’s surgeries, her concern with appearance, the proud way she always complimented Mandy’s outfits, hair, and makeup. I reflected back on the night when Sherry had called herself “lucky to have two tall children,” and realized with shock that she hadn’t been saying this to my mom, or to me, but for the benefit of Mandy and Michael, who were walking a few feet away, within earshot.

  I’d been right about Sherry not feeling guilty about having plastic surgeries, but I was wrong to have assumed that she made her decisions thoughtlessly. It seemed this way only because she’d dealt with her issues long ago; she knew herself well enough now to feel certain about her choices, despite the costs and risks. Didn’t every woman deserve to know herself this well? Sure, Sherry had made different decisions from those I hoped to make for myself, but she’d led a very different life from mine, and had different values, and different things to prove to herself. (What had my mom always told me? “People always do the best they can with what they have.” I wouldn’t forget it again.)

  Sherry wasn’t perfect. No parent (or mother-in-law) ever could be. But she’d tried her hardest to keep the past from repeating itself, and it warmed my heart to know that Mandy would continue this tradition with her own kids someday. Oh, and that lack of angst I’d been jealous of? I decided to go ahead and stay jealous of it, but admit it to myself. If I wanted to learn how to be confident in my own authentic decisions, it wouldn’t hurt to have a stubbornly self-assured role model for inspiration.

  It fascinated me to realize that, despite having reached a place of calmness and body-confidence, I was still vulnerable to triggers and excuses. Whether they appeared in the form of an automatically generated health report or an imagined monster-in-law, it would be up to me to recognize them for what they were. As it had for years, my commitment (and recommitment) to Health at Every Size, along with a willingness to test my assumptions, promised to pull me through these times.

  The lessons I’d learned from my conversation with Sherry (and the meltdown that had preceded it!) felt like the final pieces to the puzzle I’d been working on since the beginning of my project. The most important piece was the reminder to recognize my feelings of jealousy and criticism toward other women for what they were: remnants of a destructive disease and perpetuators of a dangerous culture. I’d learned to ignore my anorexic voice when it picked on me, but I needed to apply this same reaction when that critical voice turned to others.

  A second puzzle piece fell into place when I realized that my mother-in-law had earned every right to feel content and confident in her choices, even if they were different choices from those I hoped to make. Both of us had embarked on quests to make peace with our bodies, but we’d taken different paths. Her confidence was built from self-knowledge, and her choices were shaped by her unique history, values, and priorities. If I wanted that same assuredness for myself, I would have to get more comfortable with what I wanted (since I couldn’t have it all) and who I wanted to be (since I couldn’t be it all). I’d done a great job of identifying my values and goals, but I’d done a shitty job of letting go of the things I’d have to give up. My panicked freak-out about my hair had made this utterly clear; in its wake, I finally felt ready to mourn the losses of “it all” and move on.

  TEN

  January, February, March

  GIVING BACK AND RESOLVING TO STOP LIVING ON THE SURFACE OF MY BODY

  We look into mirrors but we only see the effects of our times on us—not our effects on others.

  PEARL BAILEY

  JANUARY 1 ARRIVED QUICKLY, BUT I WAS PREPARED WITH A fantastic New Year’s resolution. In my love for both mantras and lists, I’d come up with a fancy catchphrase for my resolution, along with a list of specific goals that would help me achieve it. My resolution was to “spend less time living on the surface of my body.”

  I’d been mulling over this mantra for a while. Giving up mirrors had made me painfully aware of how much time I’d spent focusing on my looks, whether in front of a mirror or not, and I’d decided that spending time worrying about my looks—or what was happening on the surface of my body—was less valuable and meaningful than spending time focused on how it actually felt to live within my body, or time spent contributing to and engaging in the world outside of it. By trying to “spend less time living on the surface of my body,” I was committing to spend more time in these other realms. This seemed fairly easy to do while avoiding mirrors, but I was less than three months away from the end of my project and I wanted to strengthen these skills so I could continue on this path once mirrors were back in my life.

  Now, before you start wondering if I’d forgotten all of the tips I’d learned for setting successful resolutions (i.e., the fact that vague and complex resolutions, like “Spend less time living on the surface of my body,” were bad), have no fear. I made a list of a few simple and specific goals that would set me on track for success.

  Under the category of focusing more on the experiences of living inside of my body, I resolved to (1) run a half marathon before the end of the year, (2) experiment in the kitchen, and (3) have more sex (realizing with a laugh that items 2 and 3 could be accomplished at the same time). My recent focus on following Health at Every Size had inspired these goals. It had been more than two years since I’d trained for a road race, and I knew it would feel amazing to reconnect with my inner athlete. Enjoying delicious food was similarly in line with HAES, and the tenet regarding “joyful movement” had always seemed to me like code for sex.

  Under the category of contributing to and engaging in the world outside of my body, I resolved to (1) increase my volunteer work with About-Face and (2) connect with more body-positive organizations in the San Francisco Bay Area. As for increasing my volunteer work with About-Face, while planning my wedding I’d felt unable to give more than the bare minimum of the work I’d committed to (i.e., analyzing data once per quarter and presenting the results at board meetings). Now that my wedding planning was in the past, I wanted to step up my engagement; it was time for me to start giving media literacy workshops again. Connecting with other body-positive organizations in the area felt like a natural next step.

  • • •

  ONE OF THE FIRST DECISIONS I MADE TOWARD COMPLETING my New Year’s resolution was to put off the whole half marathon thing for the time being. I knew from experience that this would be a huge commitment once I began training, so it seemed best to revisit it during the summer (or fall . . . or winter . . .). Cooking, too, could wait. Not so for the “have more sex” resolution. Let’s just say that Michael really wanted to support me in this goal.

  It seemed timely. I didn’t want to overanalyze things too much, but there was no way to deny the truth: Michael and I had been in a serious slump in the romance department. We were pretty crazy for each other when we first started dating—holding hands all the time, smooching in public, lots of smooching in private, and frequent “You’re so hot I can’t help it!” butt-pinches whenever we could get away with it. During our year and a half of long-distance dating, we spent hours on the phone most nights when apart and hours in the bedroom when together. It was awesome.

  But all that romance took time away from other things—important things—including time for work, time with friends and family, and time getting exercise. Since moving in together, we’d both been able to reinvest in all of these other things, which felt great. Our lives had more balance, and it was phenomenal to finally share a home. But for some reason—or perhaps for many reasons—this reshuffling of our lives had dampened the romance. We just weren’t lusting
after each other the way we used to, and it was a bummer.

  I feared that some of this might be related to my no-mirrors project. I’d been so much less focused on my looks (which has been wonderful for my body image and confidence!), but in doing so I’d also spent the majority of my days comfortably hanging out in a T-shirt and slouchy jeans, wearing minimal makeup, and with my hair always in a ponytail. At bedtime I changed into elastic-waistband PJ pants that came practically up to my ta-tas, worn with (what else?) a huge old T-shirt. Did Michael still find me attractive? Amazingly, yes (not that he wouldn’t prefer a slightly less schlumpy wife!). But I didn’t feel very sexy. I wondered: At what point does feeling comfortable with both yourself and your partner start to kill the romance?

  My lowered libido came as a surprise to me. I really thought that focusing on how I felt instead of how I looked would have made me feel sexy all the time. But I may have underestimated the extent to which primping and grooming helped me feel attractive and sexy. Despite feeling increasingly comfortable with my body, I hadn’t been feeling particularly amorous. I was rarely “in the mood” lately, and it didn’t help that Michael had been too exhausted after work to put much effort into “setting the mood.”

  For example, a few weeks prior, Michael and I had gone to dinner at our favorite sushi restaurant. I even dressed up (i.e., changed out of my PJ pants) for the occasion! After complaining for thirty minutes about the exhaustions of my day, I felt a glimmer of that wanting-to-snuggle-and-kiss kind of feeling. So I leaned over the table, looked longingly into Michael’s eyes, and said, “Any interest in giving me a full-body massage when we get back home?” (I even suggestively wiggled my eyebrows.) He perked up and said, “Ooooh, that sounds fun!” But once we got home, Michael’s energy dropped faster than a sake bomb. He haphazardly scratched my back for about five minutes and then started bargaining for “payment upfront.” I know that sounds awful, but by this point we both exploded into giggles and exchanged some tickles (I also gave Michael a “full-body massage” by scratching his left biceps). But that was the extent of it. Bonding: check. Sexy-time: uncheck.

  So, did we still adore each other? Absolutely! Did we still find each other attractive? Yep. (I still found Michael crazy-handsome, and he seemed to think I was somewhere between cute and gorgeous, depending on the day.) Did we have a healthy and respectful relationship? Yes. Were we having fun and enjoying time together? Absolutely! (Just not so much in bed.)

  I shared these concerns in a blog post, asking my readers for advice, and was shocked (and delighted) when I received an e-mail from Abby, my PhD advisor. She wrote to tell me about a story she’d recently heard at temple.

  “The rabbis were talking about why there are mirrors in the tabernacle or holy of holies or some sacred Jewish space, and the answer is that mirrors are holy because during the time that the Jews were enslaved in Egypt and the men were so exhausted from hard labor that they had no interest in romance/baby-making, the women would use mirrors to make themselves beautiful and get their husbands into the mood. Thanks to their ingenuity, the Jewish people continued to reproduce during this trying time. So, this provides Talmudic support for your hypothesis that mirrors can help make women feel sexy!”

  This was such a treat to read. First, I loved hearing any story in which women save the world. I think we do it a little bit every day just by being who we are, but it’s great to see these heroic (heroine-ic?) roles being recorded in our religious and cultural artifacts. Second, I liked learning about reasons to appreciate mirrors. In less than three months they’d be back in my life, and I wanted to feel excited about that. This story reminded me that spending time in front of a mirror wouldn’t have to be accompanied by insecurity and it didn’t have to represent a departure from living in accordance with my values. I hoped that by the time I returned to mirrors, I’d have learned enough to bring the good stuff, like this, back with them.

  I read Abby’s e-mail to Michael, who then suggested that our first step once my project was over ought to involve attaching a humongous mirror to the ceiling above our bed. I told him I’d have to think about that (ummmm . . . probably not). In the meantime, we started scheduling some in-between-the-sheets dates to get back into the habit of “joyful movement.”

  As for my resolution to begin giving media literacy workshops for About-Face, I gave Jennifer the heads-up on this and was immediately scheduled for three workshops in the coming months, including one at the annual University of California San Francisco Young Women’s Health Conference. I was excited but also nervous: I hadn’t given a workshop in ages and hoped I’d be prepared.

  I wasn’t sure exactly how I ought to connect with other body-positive women’s organizations in the Bay Area, but I trusted that I’d be able to figure this one out within the next year.

  • • •

  THE BEGINNING OF 2012 BROUGHT WITH IT MORE TO PLAN than just resolutions. I was quickly closing in on the end of my no-mirrors project, and I needed to decide exactly how I wanted my year to end. I’d been putting this off for a while in an effort to stay focused on enjoying the final months of the project, but by the end of January I knew I needed to start brainstorming.

  For the most part I was feeling excited to look at myself in mirrors again. This wasn’t to say that I was no longer reaping the benefits of mirror-free life in spades. For example, I calculated that by the end of these 365 days I’d have gained over ninety hours of time to do . . . whatever. Just by cutting fifteen minutes out of my morning makeup routine. And let’s not forget the benefits of feeling increasingly confident about my body and myself as a whole, more in tune with things that made me feel good and kept me healthy. I also cared much less about whether or not I looked like a feminist trophy-wife. And yet, I was still looking forward to seeing what I looked like again! I missed me. But how to celebrate?

  I went back and forth between two different options, depending on my mood. When I was feeling calm, confident, and excited (which was pretty often), I wanted to celebrate with a big party, filled with family and friends. I imagined a Body-Positive Bonanza, filled with love-your-body art and activities. I envisioned cool music, delicious beverages, and yummy munchies. Then, when the clock struck midnight, I’d give a little speech and go check myself out in a mirror. Taking things a step further, I wondered if About-Face would want to be involved, as a way to raise awareness about their work. Maybe other Bay Area organizations would want to get involved as well. (What a great way to check off that fourth New Year’s resolution goal!)

  But sometimes, if I was feeling less secure, I wanted the exact opposite: to take my “first look” completely alone. The big-party option seemed like a great way to commemorate the year in a way that involved all of the people who had supported me throughout it. I knew that my friends and family were excited for me and wanted to be there. (In fact, I was pretty sure Michael’s feelings would have been hurt if I’d gone for the solo option.) But involving other people added pressure to the situation. I mean, what if I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror? What if my first reaction was a cringe—or worse, a meltdown? I prepared myself for the possibility that this could happen. If it happened in front of an audience, I might feel pressured to fake a positive reaction, to write a happy ending to the story. But this wasn’t what I wanted for myself. I wanted the moment to be authentic, not for the sake of an audience, but for myself.

  One thing was for sure: I wouldn’t know which situation I preferred until the moment came. The solution, therefore, was obvious: I needed a plan that gave me the flexibility of a public or private first look. In other words, I needed to throw my party somewhere that had a private nook available, just in case. I was also kind of weirded out by the concept of a sudden reveal in the mirror. The idea reminded me too much of reality TV makeover shows. I talked to my friend Laila about this, and she helped me come up with a solution: We could cover the mirror with a collage of images and positive messages that remi
nded me of who I was on the inside. At midnight I’d take the collage down, bit by bit, to see myself gradually while keeping in mind the lessons I’d learned about what really counted.

  I felt calmer once this flexible plan was in motion, so I spoke with Jennifer to ask if she wanted About-Face to be involved in my Body-Positive Bonanza idea. Jennifer agreed enthusiastically and promised to help me get in contact with other area organizations, including Volluptuart, an online retailer of body-positive art, HAES activist Marilyn Wann, and The Body Positive, an eating disorder prevention organization.

  My next steps were to find the perfect (i.e., really big and unwarped) mirror for my first look and to nail down a venue for the event.

  But before I could dive into these remaining tasks, I hit a major roadblock: I managed to catch a horrible cold, which quickly turned into an epic cough. Between sleepless nights and daily coughing fits that left me sweaty, breathless, and mildly incontinent, I barely had enough energy to work on my dissertation research, much less party planning. As I worked my way through endless over-the-counter and folk remedies, I gained a renewed appreciation for health.

  I also, oddly enough, gained a renewed appreciation for my sense of smell, which the cold had forced into dormancy. Every time I showered, put on makeup, styled my hair, or spritzed perfume, I felt really sad and numb without the accompanying scents I was used to experiencing. I’d clearly been overenjoying the scents of my various getting-clean-and-ready products in the absence of being able to see their effects. I hoped this scent-sensitivity continued when I went back to using mirrors again (assuming I regained my sense of smell!). Life is richer when you experience it with all of your senses, no?

  • • •

  FEELING SICK AND EXHAUSTED WAS DEPRESSING, SO I DECIDED to boost my spirits by making a list of all of the ways that mirrors were used to help people and improve society.