Reflections of the Beholder

I remember watching an old episode of “The Twilight Zone” inspired by the cliché “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” The viewers meet a man and woman in the hospital with their heads wrapped in bandages. They have undergone plastic surgery in an attempt to make themselves more attractive. The bandages slowly get unwound, and a beautiful woman and handsome man are revealed. But when they see their faces in a mirror, they’re both horrified at their ugliness. The camera then pans to the faces of the doctors and nurses, which look more like pigs than humans.

 

“Beauty” isn’t an objective truth like gravity or the Pythagorean theorem. It only takes a quick scan through art history to see how beauty ideals have changed. But “beauty” FEELS objective.  My weight squared plus wrinkles squared equals “not pretty enough” squared.

 

The exponential weight of “unacceptable” hits me hardest when I see myself in a mirror or on video.  Pre-Covid Kate was soooo close to being able to do a pull-up. A year later, I get to be face to face with my reflection as I fail at eccentric pull-ups or struggle through a 30 second dead hang. 30 seconds is a long time. For a dead hang, yes, but also to spend looking at yourself. Noticing the older face, the soft arms, the legs housed in size large leggings, the belly.

 

My kickboxing coach sent a video of some of our training today. Soft arms, again, but this time I also get to see back fat and love handles moving with each punch or kick. Pressing play is my own unwrapping of bandages. A mirror held to my face that says, “What you were hoping to see is not here.”

 

But what if I changed my eyes? What if I changed my standards? What if I made a new truth that builds me up rather than makes me feel small and worthless?

 

Is the girl doing 4 minutes of alternating dead hangs and squat holds fat, or is she admirable for getting back at it? For pursuing her pull-up and strength goals? Is the girl throwing punches fat or has she improved her footwork and flow? Is she rejecting the idea that a middle-aged mom is too old to get better?

 

I wish it were easier. I wish the beholder within me were kinder. Doing a pull-up seems more possible right now, to be honest.

 

But there’s no reason I can’t work on both.