Mirror, Mirror On The Wall

There is a large mirror in my gyno's office. It's positioned in a typical, unassuming location, above the bench where the nurse places the shrink-wrapped gown you'll don for your appointment. At my last visit, this gown was coral. As I admired how well the color worked against my yellow undertones in the reflection that stood before me, mixed feelings brewed inside.

I thought maybe it was my hair being pulled back.  I thought maybe it was because I was looking at my profile instead of straight ahead at the mirror.  I stared suspiciously.  I even quickly opened my robe, flashing myself before finally concluding that no, everything is exactly the way I remember it.  But in the mirror, I still appeared less chubby than usual.  Thin, even.  It was so odd to see less of her, the chubby one I know as me.

It seemed unfair that at the offices of the one medical specialty dedicated to women's health, even there we're set up to question our self image. I don't know about this whole size thing. When you're about to see a doctor about [insert embarrassing thing here], shouldn't you at least be secure in knowing that you are however you are?  Not distracted by a warped image of yourself right before you discuss the workings of your most intimate parts?

I guess my point is: let's freaking lose the slimming mirrors, shall we?  The image is misleading, entirely inaccurate, and just not right.  What good does any woman have to gain from seeing something that's not really her?

Despite the mirror game, I marched out of that office feeling like a million bucks.  The doctor had declared, "Julia, that is soooo common!"  Just like that, instant relief washed over me.  "Oh," I managed to squeak sheepishly.  Phew.  THAT's what going to the G-Y-N should be about: regaining confidence in knowing that your body's doing what it should be doing and faith in the comfort of knowing that you're fine as you are, not how you might look minus a few pounds.