The Bravery in Small Things

I promised myself when I reached 112 lbs. I would  get a new tube of lipstick: a nice one, expensive.  I think prizes like this are a nice motivation to continue the fight against fat, and also help to build my arsenal of weapons of perfection.

Well, I did it.  I had been flirting around the goal for a couple of days, but when the morning scale measurement read 111.2, I was elated.  I knew it was legitimate weight loss, not just fluid shifts.

So, I went to the Lancome counter and purchased a shade of Berry Noir.  It was as if, more than a coat of lipstick, I had put on a suit of armor.  Such a small thing, but I suddenly felt glamorous, strong. 

I reflected again on the person I want to become.  Sure, the future me is thinner, more stylish, her hair has grown longer, but it is more than looks.  What does this woman DO?

The ideal I have is difficult to put into words, but I see myself as the person who is aloof, yet accessible.  Socially desirable.  A woman wearing this shade of lipstick should be in a trendy shop, drinking coffee, reading a book...meeting a young man.  Suddenly brave, I did something I haven't done in a long time.  I pulled out my phone, scrolled through the contacts, and texted a guy friend, a  mutual acquaintence I have always found attractive but never hung out with one-on-one.  We decided to meet within the hour.

As I sat, laughing with him and sipping my Americano, I admired the deep rasberry tinted stain my lips left on the edge of my glass.  I had none of the nerves I usually get in social situations.  I felt cool, in control, and I felt his surprise and delight in response to my confidence.

When we parted ways, my glow lingered, stimulated by laughter and caffeine.  Where had this sudden, unexpected confidence? 

From bravery.  From the bravery of small things.  A new shade of lipstick.  The bravery to call up a friend and be vulnerable to awkward conversation. The bravery to embrace the eating disorder that has so long threatened to ruin mylife, and instead use it as the catalyst for my rise to perfection.

I am still not the woman I want to be--no where near.  But for a brief, afternoon coffee date, I got to pretend. I got a taste of a good-looking guy hanging on my every word mixed with rich, black espresso.  Needless to say, I liked the flavor.

For now, I'll have to be content to keep faking it.

--JK