Apparently, I’m Taller in the Morning

I realized something very strange about myself this week.
Apparently, I am taller in the morning.
I know.

Another fascinating discovery from the glamorous life of a 53-year-old woman.

Here is how I figured this out.
Every morning, I get in my car, adjust myself, check the rearview mirror, and everything is perfect. The mirror is exactly where it needs to be. I can see perfectly. All is well in the world.

Then later that same day, I get back in the car to pick up my son or run somewhere and suddenly...
Why is the mirror pointing at the ceiling?
I have to move it down.
Same car.
Same seat.
Same woman.
Several hours later.

Apparently, I have shrunk.
And once I noticed it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

By 5 PM, Gravity Has Opinions

I told my sister about this and we started laughing because it is so true.
In the morning, I can stand in front of the mirror and think:

Okayyyy. Looking pretty fabulous today.

Hair behaving.
Face rested.
Shoulders where shoulders are supposed to be.
Life is good.

Then I catch myself in a mirror at the end of the day and I swear I have questions.
Where did all of THAT come from?
Why does everything suddenly look like it has moved slightly south?
When did my neck join the conversation?
And why do I look like I’ve personally carried groceries home from another state?

Same face.
Same body.

Just... the end-of-day edition.

Which apparently comes with less height and considerably more gravity.

But Then I Started Thinking About It Differently

Because yes, there is an actual physical reason we can be a little shorter later in the day.
Our spine compresses. We get tired. Our posture changes.
Fine.
Science.
Thank you very much.

But I started noticing something else.
We really do shrink as the day goes on.
Not only in height.
Our shoulders come forward.
Our head drops toward the phone.
Our jaw gets tighter.
Our face changes.
We sit differently.
We breathe differently.

And life starts collecting on our body.

An errand here.
A text there.
Something somebody needs.
Traffic.
A bill.
The email you forgot to answer.
The conversation you keep replaying even though replay number fourteen has somehow still not solved anything.
Dinner.
Laundry.
Work.
Kids.
Parents.
The news.
The phone.
The one thing you promised yourself you were going to do and didn’t.

Nothing extraordinary needs to happen.
It’s simply... a day.

And somehow by the end of it, we are taking up a little less space.

I Think Women Get Very Good at This

We talk so much about confidence.

Taking care of ourselves.
Setting boundaries.
Thinking positively.
Having a morning routine.
And I love all of that.

But lately I’m becoming just as interested in noticing all the tiny ways we disappear during the day.
Because sometimes it isn’t some giant life event that takes us away from ourselves.

It’s accumulation.

One little thing after another.
One interruption after another.
One person needing something after another.

Until eventually you realize you’ve been walking around with your shoulders somewhere near your ears since lunchtime.

And the funny thing is, we often don’t even notice.
We just feel tired.
Heavy.
Irritable.
Old.
Not quite ourselves.

And then naturally we stand in front of the bathroom mirror at 6:30 PM under lighting apparently designed by someone who hates women and think:

Good Lord.

Maybe We Need Little Ways to Come Back

I’ve been thinking about how different the day might feel if we stopped occasionally and noticed:

Oh. I’ve shrunk.

Not as criticism.
Just awareness.
Straighten your back.
Drop your shoulders.
Unclench your jaw.
Take a deep breath.
Walk outside.
Wash your face.
Change your clothes.
Put the phone down.
Go stand in the sun for five minutes.
Move your body.
Sit somewhere alone with your coffee.

Do whatever brings you back into your own body again.
Not because fixing your posture fixes your life.
Obviously.
I wish.
We would all save a fortune on therapy.

But because sometimes the physical act of taking up space again reminds you:

Oh, right. I’m still here.

And Then the Rearview Mirror Hit Me Differently

This is the part I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

I don’t notice that I have changed position until something that was perfectly aligned with me before... isn’t anymore.
The mirror didn’t move.
I did.

And isn’t that such a strange little picture of midlife?

Sometimes we don’t realize how much we’ve changed until the things that used to fit us suddenly don’t.
A routine.
A friendship.
A role.
A relationship dynamic.
A job.
A home.
The way we dress.
The way we spend our time.
The things we tolerate.
The version of ourselves everyone around us still expects us to be.

And suddenly something feels off.
We keep trying to adjust ourselves to make it fit again.
Maybe if I try harder.
Maybe if I’m more grateful.
Maybe if I stop wanting so much.
Maybe if I get motivated again.
Maybe if I go back to how I used to be.

But what if nothing is wrong with the mirror?
What if you moved?

Maybe You Aren’t Supposed to Fit the Same Way Forever

I think that’s one of the strangest parts of getting older.
We expect our bodies to change.
Nobody is terribly surprised that our face looks different at 53 than it did at 33.
(Although apparently I personally still reserve the right to be offended by it at 6 PM)

But we don’t always give ourselves the same permission emotionally.
We’re shocked when we want different things.
When the life we worked so hard to build doesn’t fit exactly the same way.
When something that used to satisfy us doesn’t anymore.
When we’re still grateful for what we have and simultaneously aware that we want more.

Maybe that doesn’t make us difficult.
Maybe it means we’re alive.
Still changing.
Still noticing.
Still wanting to participate in our own lives.

So Now I Keep Thinking About That Stupid Mirror

Every time I get back in the car later in the day and have to move it, I laugh.
There she goes.
Shrinking again.

But now it also reminds me to check something else.
My shoulders.
My breathing.
My energy.
My thoughts.
Myself.

Have I slowly folded into the day?
Have I spent the last six hours reacting to everything around me?
Do I need to come back?
And maybe that’s something worth asking beyond posture too.

What in my life no longer lines up the way it used to?
And instead of immediately assuming we need to fix ourselves...

Maybe we get curious.
Maybe the mirror isn’t wrong.
Maybe we’ve moved.
And maybe it’s time to adjust the view.

Let’s do this together.

Always with so much love,

GABY