I don’t know that guy
My apologies for not writing recently. My professional life has been extremely hectic for a number of weeks, and it’s been difficult to find time to organize my thoughts, let alone get them into the blog.
Lately, I’ve been wrestling with misconceptions about my physical appearance. I’ve talked about it a little in previous posts, where I sometimes have difficulty recognizing the person I see in the mirror, or the body I look down on, or a reflection as I pass some storefront or the like. The medical team for it is body dysmorphic disorder. Granted, the variant that I’m experiencing is not at all severe. I want to be clear in stating that this is, in no way, a debilitating experience for me, as it certainly can be for many people. If you’re not familiar with the disorder, I highly recommend reading more about it.
In the process of losing nearly 40 pounds, my body has changed; in some ways, drastically. This has been mostly in how I feel my body; the way I carry myself. Being lighter on my feet allows me to move much more fluidly. I play softball every summer, and the experience since the beginning of this year’s season has been noteworthy. Not only do I feel like I can move more freely, and run much faster, but my recovery time (especially after significant exertion) is fractional by comparison.
My first time on the diamond since before the heart attack felt like riding a bike. That’s generally been the way I feel at the beginning of any baseball season. I’ve played so much of the sport in my 47 years that there are few experiences where I feel more comfortable. The feeling of my cleats on the infield gravel, or the outfield grass, is as natural as sitting behind my desk to begin the day’s work (except I hate one of those two things; you can guess which one). There is a particular and unique nature to the tactile aspects of baseball that really resonates with me. I’m not sure I can adequately explain how I’m able to perfectly recognize each of my gloves simply by how they feel on my hand. I can generally tell how successful each at bat is purely by the feel of contact of bat on ball. All of that results in me being especially and acutely aware of how my body reacts to playing the sport.
On the visual side, there have actually been a few times where I wasn’t fully paying attention to what I was doing, walked past a mirror or window, and did not recognize myself. I’ve wondered if someone was behind me, or had to do a double take to ensure I wasn’t “seeing something.” What’s odd about it is that it doesn’t feel the same way as when this has happened prior to the weight loss. In those previous instances, I could always explain my reaction as a trick of light, or the reflection being skewed by a poor quality mirror, or something akin to that. But this time there is a bit of a short-circuit in my though process that reminds me of being confused after waking up from a dream:
Is that me? Who’s that guy?
Then, as it dawns on me that I am indeed seeing myself:
Where’s the rest of me? Is this my new reality? For how long?
This experience doesn’t stop me from doing anything. It has not gotten any “worse” as time has worn on, and, in fact, I feel as though I’m becoming more comfortable in my “new skin.” I’ve been clothes shopping a few times since the weight loss, and ,while I feel no increase in happiness in being able to fit into smaller sized clothes, I do appreciate the access to more options. I certainly recognize my size privilege, and I want to continue working towards the eradication of body-shaming. It seems evident to me that this entire post can come off as a person complaining about a situation that, at least from the perspective of physical appearance, puts me at an advantage. But, this is just something that I’m feeling, and I wanted to share it.
I’m pretty sure that I’ll be continuing to wrestle with this for at least a little while longer. The brevity of this experience, and the fact that it has improved, also makes me feel very fortunate. I know that this could have gone and could go very differently, and often does for many people in similar circumstances. Earlier, I wrote about how the reason for the weight loss makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable when people are excited to see my new shape. It’s not exactly a “good reason” to lose weight (I am skeptical such a thing exists). And, as I’ve said before, the medical professionals all agree that the rapidity with which I lost the weight was not exactly healthy. Pair all that with the fact that I haven’t been happy with my physical state for several decades, I suppose we can say there’s a lot of baggage tied up in the whole affair.
A lot of things have come as surprises since the heart attack, but I think this is the most unexpected thus far. I’m a fairly level-headed individual, so if you had told me that my mind would be doing a “mini short circuit” every now and then, I would have had trouble believing that. I don’t look forward to these experiences, but I have to say that there is a fascinating intellectual side to it that I am keen to explore. Where will this take me? I cannot say. But I’m here for the journey, and I hope you are all as well.
