Yesterday, I was putting on a pair of jeans and thought I should depress myself further by looking at my rear in the mirror. You know the trick, right? You stand with your back to your "big" mirror, then hold a hand-mirror strategically over your shoulder so you can get the full view. Which is an unfortunate thing to do, and every time I do it I think "holy cow, my butt is even bigger than before" (or, as I was told by a professional yesterday, I have the genetic tendency to gain weight in unfortunate places .... um, thanks???)
So anyway, I was doing the whole backwards-mirror-depressing thing when suddenly I noticed a spot on my elbow. Sort of like a bruise, or an indention ... or maybe a deformity. And I (honest to Pete, I so totally did this) laid the mirror down on the bathroom counter and tried to look at my elbow by twisting my arm around. Did you know it is pretty much impossible to actually LOOK at your own elbow? But because I had forgotten that, I (again, no lie) starting turning around in circles, like a dog chasing my tail, trying to see whatever calamity had befallen my poor elbow.
Finally I realized how idiotic I looked, and that it was never going to work, so I grabbed the handmirror, and came to the conclusion that my "deformity" was nothing more than a crease from where I had been leaning my lower arms on the hard plastic armrests of my computer chair.
And after I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn't have elbow-cancer or anything, the thought that honest-to-goodness went through my head was, "I'm so glad nobody saw me do that."
Famous last words, right?
Later in the day I stopped at our local grocery store to pick up .... I don't even remember what. And as I walked from my car to the front doors, I glanced up and noticed my reflection. And as I walked right up to the entrance door, I got a *really* good look at the saddlebags on my thighs.
No lie, I sort of paused right there, a foot from the front door, in shock at how big my thighs are. (That's the part of our bodies we call saddlebags, yes? The poochy-out part of our upper, outer legs .... right?) So without even thinking about it I sort of slapped my upper thigh, and then shook it around a little bit, and said to myself in the reflecting door ... "My gosh, has my metabolism completely stopped??? .... and shook my head in disgust and walked into the store .....
where Kendrie's little friend Matt and his dad were in the check-out line right in front of the door, watching my insane-ness the entire time.
Egads. I'm going to go live in a cave somewhere and quit interacting with humans. A cave where no mirrors or reflective doors are allowed.