Mirror Mirror On The Wall

Have you ever looked in the mirror with awe because the reflection staring back at you was a person you didn’t even recognize? You quickly glance away and then look again hoping that your eyes are just playing a cruel trick on you.  Yet when you do take a second look, the hair stands up on the back of your neck because you are undeniably unrecognizable.  A foreign entity has transformed you from the inside out into the alien that is now gleaming back.

People always questioned the validity of my illness because of my physical representation.  No one seemed to believe that a person who appeared healthy and pretty on the outside could be encountering tedious turmoil on the inside.  How irritating and frustrating it was to constantly hear, “But you don’t look sick.” People don’t look ignorant either because looks can be deceiving.

If I could have turned myself inside out, no one would have dared to utter those words.  However, that wasn’t necessary because in the couple of years preceding surgery, my outside appearance became as transparent as an x-ray.  My vanity was scooped up by a strong gust of wind that blew away into oblivion as I was stripped of makeup, cute clothes, and the perfect tan.  My once slender and proportional figure faded away as any inch of fat I had melted, exposing the frail bones of my skeleton.  The usual pink flush in my cheeks dissipated as a pale sheet, whiter than snow, smothered my skin.  I was a walking ghost in grave pain.

Mirrors, once kind and inviting, had now turned into an evil I couldn’t bear to face.  I finally looked as bad as I felt.  My skinny body was overwhelmed by the pants that now slid down my waist, and the shirts that loosely hung from my chest.  I was accused of being anorexic as people stunningly stared.  One nurse even told me that it looked like I just walked out of a concentration camp (how sweet of her, and I’m Jewish).

When I looked at myself for the first time after surgery, I was in shock.   I weighed 76 pounds soaking wet, the thinnest I had ever been.  My hip bones prominently protruded.  My arms and legs could have been mistaken for twigs.  I could feel every vertebra in my spine and see every rib in my rib cage.

Fortunately because of the surgery, I could now eat without my body rejecting food.  I will never forget the first meal I consumed after months of not being able to eat anything more than soup and Gatorade.  It was a burger and french fries, and it was the most satisfying thing I have ever eaten.  It was the first time in three years I could eat without experiencing any internal pain.

Gaining weight has always been difficult for me and was now proving to be an even greater challenge.  I was completely nutritionally depleted.  The first 10 pounds weren’t that hard to gain because my body was literally starving.  Trying to gain the weight that followed was irritating and took many months.  Six months have passed since surgery and I have gained a total of 14 pounds.

My goal weight for the long haul is 110.  I will be elated to just reach 100 again.  Although I have made incredible strides and progress, it is easy to see that I am still very thin.  It takes a great deal of discipline to train myself to eat six small meals a day.  I often forget to eat because I went without food for so long.  That might sound crazy, but my body grew accustomed to always being in a hungry state.  My intestines couldn’t absorb nutrients adequately, and food held a negative connotation in my mind.

I can now once again look in the mirror without hesitation and fear.  I allow myself to linger longer than I have in years because I need to rebuild my confidence.  Although, I was surprised to notice that the person staring back at me was still different.  A woman with battle wounds is now glaring back in the reflection of my eyes, and she is stronger than ever.