Petite.
I've never thought of myself as petite. I've imagined myself as a beast of burden. I can lift full kegs and heavy trays and large children without straining a muscle. I can reach cans of beans on high shelves, and I can run for long distances. I can do amazing things with my body, and these feats have led me to picture myself as a big brute of a girl.
I got out of the habit of examining myself in mirrors when I was in middle school because I was so dismally plain. Gray braces strapped insidiously to crooked barracuda teeth. Frizzy mouse-colored hair. Glasses the thickness of Coke bottle bottoms. Sallow, dull skin. Forgettable and unremarkable. I remember looking at myself and thinking, "Brown, brown, brown. How can I be this plain?"
Looking in a full-length mirror was completely out of the question. Knobby, raw knees. Scrawny stick legs and arms. A boobless wonder.
Instead of looking in mirrors, I created an imagined body and face for myself. This other pretend me was a composite of beautiful models and actresses that I admired. I got through each day by the sheer force of my ability to imagine myself as someone else.
Even when I looked in the mirror, I saw past myself. I looked at my own image the way that I looked at those Magic 3D Posters that were popular at the time. I screwed up my eyes and blotted myself out.
There are moments when I see myself through someone else's eyes though. Caught off guard, watching someone look at me, I catch a glimpse of myself reflected in their eyes. What a surprise to see that I'm a petite woman. Not bony anymore, though not fleshy either. Muscular as I always knew I must be, but muscular in a lean way. Nice lady-like legs. A narrow waist and narrow ankles. Nice long arms. Not bad to look at. Still brown, yes, but different shades and textures of brown.
I still don't match my insides, I think. I don't look as strong as I feel. I look fragile. And that surprises me and makes me want to care for myself more. My poor petite frame isn't as mean and tough as I am. And it isn't ugly or plain. It's just what it is. And I suppose what comes as a surprise to me is that I am a woman. All those years that I didn't look at myself, I grew and became a real live woman. Imagine that.
I got out of the habit of examining myself in mirrors when I was in middle school because I was so dismally plain. Gray braces strapped insidiously to crooked barracuda teeth. Frizzy mouse-colored hair. Glasses the thickness of Coke bottle bottoms. Sallow, dull skin. Forgettable and unremarkable. I remember looking at myself and thinking, "Brown, brown, brown. How can I be this plain?"
Looking in a full-length mirror was completely out of the question. Knobby, raw knees. Scrawny stick legs and arms. A boobless wonder.
Instead of looking in mirrors, I created an imagined body and face for myself. This other pretend me was a composite of beautiful models and actresses that I admired. I got through each day by the sheer force of my ability to imagine myself as someone else.
Even when I looked in the mirror, I saw past myself. I looked at my own image the way that I looked at those Magic 3D Posters that were popular at the time. I screwed up my eyes and blotted myself out.
There are moments when I see myself through someone else's eyes though. Caught off guard, watching someone look at me, I catch a glimpse of myself reflected in their eyes. What a surprise to see that I'm a petite woman. Not bony anymore, though not fleshy either. Muscular as I always knew I must be, but muscular in a lean way. Nice lady-like legs. A narrow waist and narrow ankles. Nice long arms. Not bad to look at. Still brown, yes, but different shades and textures of brown.
I still don't match my insides, I think. I don't look as strong as I feel. I look fragile. And that surprises me and makes me want to care for myself more. My poor petite frame isn't as mean and tough as I am. And it isn't ugly or plain. It's just what it is. And I suppose what comes as a surprise to me is that I am a woman. All those years that I didn't look at myself, I grew and became a real live woman. Imagine that.
posted by Autumn at 1:37 PM
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