Cardboard or CrossFit, mirrors are rarely found in a box. For me, their absence releases me of my image inhibitions and allows me to strive for movements and loads I know I would not attempt if constantly faced with this ugly mug-on-a-lump. I didn’t realize the paralyzing symptoms of my chagrin until face-to-face with the continued dissonance between how I feel I look and how I believe I ought to look.
When “recovering” from anorexia my family lovingly covered all mirrors in our house with wrapping paper and I had to swear I would not linger in front of sunlit windowpanes (yeah, seriously, I’m a book of broken promises.) However much a liar I was in the beginning, I did get busy and happy and recognized that mirrors, though they tell the truth, are not good company for me to keep.
I do appreciate the infinity mirror we recently purchased. It seems a great work of craftsmanship, and has kept me from several awful-outfit-induced shame-fests. But I’ve come to find, today, that I can hardly tolerate mirrors in my area of squat.
Yesterday, I mentioned butt wink; mirrors are good for telling me what I need to work on when coach’s eye is not at hand. Today, though, my eyeline was directly at the belly of my reflection, and what I saw made me I want to squat down down down until I sank right through the floor. My belly is huge. Especially when I squat. This tells me two things: first, I am definitely not keeping my core TIGHT all the way through the movement (related to butt wink?); second, gosh what a fatso.
And that dear friends is one more reason CrossFit is great. No mirrors, no sir. No reason to be embarrassed of double chins and big bellies that come with squats and cleans and heavy things. Coaches tell you when your butt winks and when your knees are Olive Oil-y and when your hips are just too tight and don’t breathe a word about your constipated exercise expressions. And there’s always a smile when your doubts and negativity come knocking.
Well, I weighed myself too. I know, I know, I’m supposed to track changes with the same scale yadda yadda yadda. 124. Sadly, that’s not my snatch. That’s my whole 5’1″ no-wonder-I’m-not-getting-pull-ups skin, bones, muscle, and fat. Not really digging my strength-to-weight ratio right now, especially in light of my awesome blossom nutrition and generally consistent exercise. What else can I tighten up?
Duh, KT, your freaking core.
And with that revelation, I’m off to get some lotion for some hideous bug bites I’m sporting. Be well, CrossFit, and don’t step on a scale (or look at sunlit windows)