A ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are for. -John A. Shedd
I was raised in a very Catholic home. Vanity is one of the seven deadly sins. While there were mirrors in the bathrooms, small ones, there were exactly zero full length mirrors. I was raised to believe that a full length mirror led to vanity, vanity led to sinning and, well, you see where this is going. While now I am not super Catholic, heck, I’m not even a Christmas and Easter Catholic, some things just stick with you.
I don’t know how the conversation came up, but a couple of months ago I had this very conversation with the AntiRunner. She was stunned that I was 40 years old and had never in my life owned a full length mirror. Then I explained to her why. I also pointed out that didn’t help when I was fat I didn’t want to look at myself in any mirror let along a full length one.
“How do you get ready for work in the morning?” she asked stunned.
“I just pick out clothes and put them on.” I said matter of factly.
“THAT’S IT! I’m know what I’m getting you for Christmas.” She decreed.
I laughed and proceeded to put the entire conversation out of my mind.
Today, Christmas Eve, when I showed up at CrossFit AntiRunner handed me a folder.
“Inside you will find something you’ve been asking for, but it’s only one part of your present. The other part is in my car.”
As I opened the folder, inside was the most beautiful piece of artwork. I laughed because not only had I been bugging her to get one, but because of what it says.
“I want you to tape this to the other part of your present,” she demanded.
I was now worried, oh boy, what did she get me?
“I got you a full length mirror.”
I was touched, smiled, laughed, and felt like I’d been shoved out to sea all at the same time. Oh boy. No more hiding.
I brought her present home and hung it up on the closet door. Baby TrailDog instantly decided that she didn’t like the new dog I brought home. I laughed. Then I stood in the mirror and she saw that I was in the mirror too. She walked up to it, sniffed it, huffed, blew steam on the glass and then turned and walked away. Yeah, baby trail dog, it’s going to take some getting used to for me too. We can do this. One step at a time.