File this blog post under "topics I don't like to discuss."
A good friend of mine said something the other day that really struck a nerve with me. As we were discussing how we have changed through the years, he said that the person in the mirror was starting to look different.
His comment knocked the air out of my lungs.
He was, of course, talking only about growing older. I, however, thought immediately of how I have changed both inwardly and outwardly in the last year. Still, the sentiment was the same, and in very different way, I knew exactly what he meant.
In the last year my lifestyle has shifted (I exercise far more, eat foods that come from their natural state), my body has changed (hello, size 2 pants, where have you been all my life?!), and, in general, I just feel better.
But when I look in the mirror there's still part of me who sees the girl who was called "blueberry" in middle school by a boy because of the blue coat she wore.
There in the locker room lingers the ghost of the girl who dreaded the gym classes where we'd have to run around the track because it physically hurt her body to move like that.
The girl who can't help but smirk every time she picks up a dumbbell because she called the under-arm jiggle she had back in high school her "chicken cutlets." Yes, it was less painful to make fun of herself than actually do something about her bad habits.
I catch glimpses of that girl every now and again -- she rears her head when people compliment me and I can't accept the compliment, and when I hear myself say things like "oh, I will never run fast."
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever lose that girl, or if I need to hang on to her just so that I don't slip up. Or can that fat girl, with all her bad habits, teach me something?
Other times, I pass by a mirror and don't recognize who I am. Who's that fit, smart, happy spitfire, I wonder? Just like my friend said: the person staring back in the mirror is just, well, slightly different than before. Only better.