The Man in the Mirror

Recently I was hanging out at church with a few of my favorite folks.  As is often the case in these past few weeks, the conversation somehow turned to my surgery and my current place in recovery.  One of the fellows mentioned his own specific current weight.  It jarred me.  I looked up from what I was doing and noticed for the first time that he and I seem the same height -- and apparently we weigh exactly the same.

He would say he wants to lose a few pounds, but I look at my church friend as entirely a size "normal".  If he's normal, maybe I'm "normal".  What?!  I've never been "normal" with regard to my size (or anything else) -- never.  Growing up, Mom hung one of those collages on the wall that held each year's school picture from kindergarten through high school and the visual evidence of my heaviness became noticeable about second grade.  For as long as I can remember, I've never been normal.

A good friend of mine had a bariatric surgery many months before I did, and I've leaned heavily upon him for guidance and encouragement.  I took him to lunch when I started pondering having the surgery, in part because I wanted to pick his brain, and in part because I wanted to see him eat.  That lunch was encouraging in many ways, the least of which was I saw him eat a regular meal like a normal person (he just put half of it in a to-go box nearly immediately!).  But he said something I found even more intriguing:  to paraphrase, he said his body and his brain were adjusting at two different paces -- and while folks around him might see him as a normal-sized person, he still saw himself in the same old light.

Now I get that.  Eleven weeks after surgery, my body is transforming into someone "normal", yet I don't feel normal.  This has been exciting and disquieting all at the same time.  I've never considered myself anything close to a vain person, yet I never pass a mirror by without staring at my reflection.  Yes, I've become our oldest when she was a toddler -- anytime she was cranky, we could place her in front of a mirror and she'd stare at herself seemingly for hours.  I look in the mirror and don't yet recognize the man I see.  Hopefully someday, my body and brain will catch up with one another.