Day Four:

(This is a picture of Gwyneth giving up on me.)

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

In the gym classes (one muscle definition class, one ZOOMBA class), I sweat, jump up and down, and am faced with thinking about nothing but what I see directly in front of me. My reflection. Usually, this makes me light headed with disgust, and I try to find a woman who’s taller than me (say, this 90 year old gentle lady) to stand in front of me so I don’t have to face myself. But today… it was different.
No no, don’t worry, I haven’t changed at all. I still posses little to no beauty nor confidence. But as I was staring at myself doing flattering squats, I saw the woman in the mirror staring back at me… and that woman was Gwyneth Paltrow.
She didn’t come like a Christmas Carol spirit here to encourage or instruct. In real life, visions rarely have that power. (I’ve always been jealous of movie/TV characters whose visions talk to them. I always try to force my imagination to do that, but then it gets scared, and the image is quickly replaced from say, Whoopie Goldberg giving me life advice to like, a giant spatula drinking a smoothie. Eh, something to work on).
Anyway, Gwenth didn’t change me in any way. She just mimicked my movements in the mirror, looking clean, glowing and perfect as usual. But it wasn’t depressing. It was exciting. My collarbones perked up, trying to jut out more, imagining what they think they look like naked, or defined. Hopefully they are more creative than I, for I can’t even imagine.