As if I don't already have enough agoraphobia-inducing triggers, I now have to worry about the daylight's effect on my self-confidence. While happily before 10 a.m. and after 3 p.m. the sun elongates my shape, giving my shadow the figure of a dancer, the sun turns from friend to foe in the hours surrounding noon. As someone already teetering on the edge of a hermitic lifestyle, I am angered and dismayed by the sun's ability to break my spirit before lunchtime.
I first noticed this issue while walking from the library to Starbucks with an ex-boyfriend. The time was 1:20 p.m., and my former flame seemed convinced I had my life back together. I looked down just to check that my toenails weren't too long, and I discovered a far grimmer reality. To my horror, I realized I was casting a bulbous, grotesque silhouette far fatter than the boy's shadow. It was like the sun was some sort of funhouse mirror. I stood up straight and sucked in, hoping to slim down my shadow, but this was of little consequence as it still looked like an overweight androgynous blob next to his (very sexy) shadow. Ashamed, I made up an excuse, ran for the shade and prayed he hadn't noticed my fat shadow.
The Earth has been rotating around the sun for years, meaning I've been wholly ignoring this facet of my image to criticize. I was na've to think that by checking my reflection in the windows of The Bridge, the display boards outside of Annenberg ("Janis Joplin Show Canceled") and, newly, The Radian exterior, I was aware of how I was presenting myself to the world. Beyond returning to therapy or purchasing a parasol, my options are limited in improving my shadow self-image. Why, sun? Why must I shuffle down the street, staring down at my chubby shadow as far more attractive and thin shadows pass by? We women already have enough pressure from the media to be stick-thin without the sun creating negative images of our bodies. What you need, sun, is to stop giving me a fat shadow.
