Perspective

There is a hallway on the 11th floor by the freight elevators connecting IT to Finance. On one end there is an office with an “inside” window (meaning you can see in it from the hallway), but this window always has the blinds down.

I've walked down this hallway towards this office a zillion times in the past 3 years. I always look at my reflection and sadly always hate what I see. It’s not that I think I’m fugly or anything, it’s that I look four times heavier in this window than I do in normal life. I’ve always been pear-shaped (Thighs!), but I swear I look like a fucking ping pong paddle.

You would think after seeing my fat ass once I would refuse to look again, but nooooooo. I continue to look every single time. The same thoughts run through my head, “Is this what I really look like? Is the full-length mirror at home and in the 10th floor bathroom lying to me? Does anyone else look bad? Does anyone else even notice?” I’ve even tried to look at Furball’s reflection as he walked toward it to see if he looked gargantuan too, but I couldn’t tell, plus he yelled at me for being all up in his grill.

Needless to say, I hate this window, my reflection in it, and my torturous vanity. That is, until now.

About two weeks ago I was walking down the hallway staring myself down, eyes fixated on my hippo hips sashaying with chubby abandon when all of a sudden I did something fucking crazy…

I moved two inches to the right.

You know what happened??? I looked great. My hips were back to their normal Anjou-selves. It was the damn blinds that distorted my reflection, like a not-so-funhouse mirror. I stopped in my tracks, admired my curves, and cheered.

Three years. Three years to move two fucking inches. Three years of torture to finally see myself as I really am.

A change in perspective is a powerful thing.