Keep On Moving

Do you ever suffer from reverse body dysmorphia?  Where you think you look better than you actually do, and then it all comes crashing to ground when you catch a glimpse of yourself in a shop window.

We're living in the teeny tiny house with no mirrors at the moment, and I'm sorry, but a misted over bathroom mirror or a mirror that even the husband has to stand on the bed on his tippy toes to put his contact lenses in don't count.  We have no full length mirrors.
I know the importance of a good full length mirror, in fact on our first real "shop" together, when we were supposed to be buying practical stuff like washing machines and toasters, the Husband and I brought a massive full length mirror that can be tilted to give the illusion of elongation.  We also brought a small guilt edged mirror.  At the end of that shopping trip we were able to tick the 'mirrors" box on our must buy list, but nothing else.
Still with my favourite mirror in storage (along with the rest of my life), and with no mirrors where we're living, I need to rely on shop windows.  And it always give that nasty shock when you realise that a) those pants actually are too tight or b) those shoes don't make my legs longer or even c) seriously?  You thought this all worked together?

The most confronting times are when I'm running and I see myself in a glass bus stand as I run towards it.  I know I am neither elegant nor straight kneed when I run, yet it still surprises me when I see myself.  I swore never to run in an event that takes those professional photos, in shorts again.  Tights to the knee can hold a multitude of sins, flabby thighs and loose skin included.  I only hope that the weather stays cool for my marathon in September, it's hard to suck in your thighs as you run past the camera when the only thought in your mind is survival.

I have many friends with amazeball bodies, that you can't even feel an iota of jealousy because they work hard, and they look fabulous, and hell, they were kind of born that way.
Yes I'd love a number of changes to my body, but medieval torture weapons aside, someone is yet to invent a way to make legs longer.
You all know that I'm training for a marathon in 5 weeks...jaysus, yet sadly, my body is the same as always (on the surface - I'm guessing my knees are saying, "are you kidding us?).  I do not look like a skeletal olympic marathon runner, I just look like me.  Maybe it's got something to do with my favourite post run recovery of potato chips and chocolate milk, or maybe it's because I run long distances without running out of puff.  But the fact is, I feel good about myself because I know I'm doing something. I'm moving, and logic says if you move then you're going to be healthier than if you didn't.

And when you feel good about yourself, everything has a way of mentally firming up. And you smile that little bit more, and your shoulders are pulled back slightly further.  And you don't need to be running a marathon, you just need to be moving.

And now I look in those shop mirrors and ignore them .  I think to myself; "this is my body I've been born with and I will do everything in my power to make it the best it can be within it's own confines."
It's when I stop believing this and doing this, that trouble starts.
So I don't stop.

Do you get this?  What do you do to feel good about yourself?

Postscript; have you EVER seen a worse case of shin wobble than in my photo?  I didn't even think it was possible for shins to wobble?

Times they are a-changing

Do you ever feel a burst of manic I'm-a-gonna-take-on-the-world'ness?  Maybe it's because I've been in a fugue because of my living arrangements and I'm feeling energised and time-rich again.  Or maybe it's like when you've had a gastro and you can't ever imagine feeling well, and then you do, and you feel like a gazillion dollars again and you want to go hard.
Maybe that's what I've got.  I'm coming through, and now I want to go hard.  Truth be told I'm a little panic'y that I'm not doing "enough".  We all have our own interpretations of what "enough" is.  I have a mental to-do list chocka-block full of stuff.  And not "pay the gas bill" kind of stuff, but my big stuff.  I'm running a marathon in 13 weeks, I thought I'd be at a different place that where I am now with my training and have had some serious self-doubts that I'm actually going to get there.  I never have self-doubts.  Never.  In all the events I've done I just rock up and get busy.  A marathon is a bit of an Everest to me.  I just need to do the right training to climb it.
My writing, gad I just can't type fast enough, I just want to go, go, go. I am going to do this, although the perennial self doubt of "what if I run out of ideas" always nags at me.  But I am writing and I will not stop.

I have a massive few months coming up.  Including yet another house move in 4-6 weeks.
But I'm excited.  Because my fugue is gone, and once again I'm writing and running.
The question for both will be can I do them faster?

How do you get rid of your fugue?  Are you "taking on the world" in your world?

The Eternal Search

I am forever looking for that miracle cure, a youth elixir, that magical product that will salvage the remnants of a face long past.

Why did I put baby oil on my face then cast my face towards the gods ?  In my youth sunblock was actually called suntan lotion, Coppertone 3, I can still smell it.  It smelt like summer.  I would pride myself on my tan, "Lisa's skin goes black in summer", my Mum would proudly gloat.  If only we knew then what we know now, and I'm not just talking about leathery skin, but I'm touching every bit of wood with my fingers and toes crossed that I continue to dodge the melanoma bullet.  Others haven't been so lucky.

I run, and when I run, my face is all screwed up, even though it's covered in Invisible Zinc, a hat and glasses, I'm in all kinds of pain which means my face gets all screwy, which when you're doing that for a couple of hours in the sun, a couple of times a week, it's not helping any hope of clawing back time.  Nope.

Reality is I'm ageing.  My face is ageing.  I will the magazines and the skew of products available on the market to be finally "the one that works".
I kidded myself when I spent time and money on 3 tubs of fricking expensive La Mer , that this would be The One.  An astronaut with burns(?) (gawd I don't read the marketing bumpf that closely) invented it.  A bloke.  Not a zillion dollar company.  I told myself that even though it smells JUST THE SAME as a pot of $3 Ponds, it must be worth the hundreds it cost.
Maybe I didn't apply it properly - you had to heat it first which required me climbing onto the toilet then holding my plastic applicator of it up to the heat lights (all while The Husband waited impatiently in bed - not great for a spontaneous sex life).
I gave up.  And moved onto whatever was on special on Strawberrynet.com that also promised wrinkle free, youthful radiance.  And then to whatever looked promising at the duty-free counter.  There is always a general theme with names like "skin renewal", "damage corrector" with words that  pop like "miracle" or "dramatic" or "urgent".  I'm every cosmetic marketers dream.  They say it, I buy it.

I have a small collection.  I also have a growing collection of "age lines".  I'm waiting patiently for the next round of miracle cures.  Maybe the reality is they don't come in bottles but in syringes.  Or maybe it's just a case of looking in the mirror and starting to love what I see.

What have you used?  What works for you? - ok, big hat, shade, I'm hearing you.