THANK YOU ALL for your wonderful feedback and for reading. I find great satisfaction from sharing my CORE here. I know that life online is often sunshine and flowers and if I wasn't anonymous, mine would be, too. Who wants to post the bad stuff about themselves publicly? NOT ME! I give great credit to the people online who put it ALL out there with their name AND face. I have a major confidence crush on all of YOU!
I love sharing my real story because I know it is a story so many of us share. As people, we have dealt with successes and failures. We have yearned for something that didn't work out. We have had our hearts broken. Struggled with our self confidence. Experienced emotional anguish and friends that couldn't give us what we really needed. And then we jumped online and we googled our whoa and we ended up on a message board or blog or website and we didn't feel so alone anymore.
The struggle with my body has been long and dark. I have wanted thin for so long that I forgot why I even wanted it at all. I have always associated health with being skinny and they are not the same. When I was at my thinnest, I abused food, exercise, drugs and alcohol. I was on tons of antidepressants. I yearned to be accepted by men and included by women. I craved love. I feared that the word "fat" would be associated with my name.
I fought with food.
I went through periods where I wouldn't eat more than diet soda and broccoli. I got thin. I binged so regularly that my stomach could easily accommodate an entire medium Chicago deep dish pizza (this is no small feat….I could have probably taken Adam from Man vs. Food at an eating competition!). I got fat. I got on the scale and cried. I got thin. I drove miles to stores where no one would see me, so I could buy larger pants. I got fat. I restricted so much that bridesmaid dresses had to be taken in three full sizes to fit my new starved shaped. I got thin.
I avoided mirrors. I avoided full fat dairy. I avoided plans out with friends. I avoided the bread basket and open bottles of wine. I avoided scales. I avoided a break in my routine. I avoided sleeping in and giving my body a break from the rigorous torture I was making it endure.
And then I was thin again.
Life was supposed to be perfect now, right?
But, where were the men and my friends and why wasn't wearing a smaller size as fun as I thought it would be? The rush of adrenaline watching the scale tick down only lasts for so long….a bite won't hurt, right? My control would waiver. I would spend hours thinking about a bag of gummy bears or a burrito. I would allow myself a nibble of fresh baguette or a tiny taste of tiramisu and I would become a frenzied dog in heat. There wasn't enough I could eat to fill up my broken heart and spirit.
And then I was fat again.
Avoidance mode. The mirrors, the people, the plans and the gym because I was too embarrassed to be seen in public. I have let people down. I have not showed up when I should have. It is so much easier to be "tired, sick or too busy" than hungover from food or without anything in my closet that fits. Would anyone even believe me if I told them that I couldn't come to dinner "because I do not have anything to wear?"
When I realized that my food addiction was so much more than a love of eating and cooking and actually involved deep seeded emotional issues that I needed to work through, I was scared. Could I overcome this? Food has been my friend. I still yearn for the comfort that only unrestricted calorie consumption and Bravo can give me. To glaze over just like a Krispy Creme. But it is no way to live. It is dark, isolating, sad and empty. When I feel the compulsion to shut in, the most important thing I can do is get outside for a walk, or go to the library or call a best friend. I need to break that moment because if I give in, one binge has the power to turn into months and months of self induced destruction by food. I deserve better.
I will never be as thin as I once was by starvation. If my body wants to amaze me and go places that it hasn't in years (as I have seen from my sister and a few best friends after babies and breastfeeding), then I will relish my shape, but no more than I love my body now.
I know I am a broken record, but my goal is to get to a place of total peace with my body. I want to find the optimal weight for my build (still have a little to go, but not a ton). I want to be healthy, strong and free from worrying about my tummy, thighs or arms. I want to get dressed and look in the mirror and be fine with what I see. To not pinch an inch or fantasize about a dress I used to wear or sigh when I put my bronzer over a lovely fleshy cheek and not a sunken cheekbone.
I am getting there. Everyday isn't as good as I would like. I sometimes eat lots of Special K bars out of habit. The rustling of wrappers comforts me still. Once in a while, my want of an ice cream cone outweighs my need and it may even be my third dessert of that day. Sometimes the scale goes up and not down.
But, I am enjoying the give and take. The downward trend overtime. I am tracking everything, even the way over my calorie days like yesterday which included mimosas, potato chips and a bakery cookie. But it also included family, stories from the past, long walks, lots of hugs and a brilliant beach moon. Life happens and I want to learn to live in a world where food and my guilt with food, do not intersect.
The nonstop restricting works, but without good habits, my weight will never stay stable. My goal once I get to the right weight for me is to stay within seven pounds (not including pregnancies hopefully to come, then I will stay within whatever the doctor recommends) for the rest of my life. I won't be the skinniest I ever have been, but I will be the most stable. I want to chose a weight (I am still seeking what may feel right) that is realistic for life.
Stability may not be as exciting, but the Weight Roller Coaster is one ride I am ready to get off of!
Showing posts with label Body Issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Body Issues. Show all posts
Monday, May 12, 2014
Friday, May 9, 2014
Bathing Beauty and the Story of My Tummy
Things are finally happening here in Charleston! I am interviewing for jobs, walking around the city for hours while I rack up steps on my Fitbit and finding the ease of familiarity that sets in when I don't have to use my GPS to get to the gym or the grocery store.
It feels good.
I have said it a million times, but transitions are my enemy. I like the feeling of knowing exactly what will happen. I like schedules and set routines. I like knowing my way around. I need to stop being such a clenched hard-on.
Lately, I am trying my best to be in the moment. I am reading books I have always wanted to and I am finding peace (and not anxiety) in my thoughts. I am eating and sleeping better. I am trying my best to react minimally to countless last minute plans (thanks (NOT) in-laws to be) and to be open to experiencing new friends and new places.
I have mentioned it before, but I had a tummy tuck a few years ago. It was something that was encouraged by Awful and I am still conflicted that I went through with it at all. Especially because I wasn't open about it with my family. Ever since that major surgery, I know that I can't do anything that I wouldn't tell them. That is my conscious barometer.
My stomach has always been "my area." Growing up it stuck out like a shelf. When I glance at the little girl photos of me, I look like I swallowed an entire watermelon. Firm and full. By junior high, it got softer and smaller. I had one large roll when I stood and three medium rolls when I sat. Even though I had thin arms and legs, my stomach labeled me as fat and I was known as a fat girl when the boys ranked the girls. By high school, I started to get breasts and hips. My stomach flattened a bit and above the belly button, I had a very distinct waist and firm upper midsection. I could finally see my feet when I showered! Below the belly button was another story entirely. I was mushy with a soft lower belly. I was told I had a fupa (fat upper pelvic (pussy) area). I did. When I got to college, I put on weight VERY rapidly. About twenty-five pounds in a matter of weeks. I developed angry red and itchy stretch marks on my lower tummy. They haunted and depressed me every time I looked in the mirror and discouraged me from making the necessary healthy eating changes I needed to. As an eighteen year old girl, I thought to myself, "why lose weight, because of my stretch marks, I will never be able to wear a bikini anyway!" Eventually, I did lose weight. My first big weight loss came a year and a half after my first big weight gain. The stretch marks started to fade a bit and with a higher cut bikini bottom (which were in style much more in 2001 than they are now), I could even hide them.
I rode this weight roller coaster all throughout my twenties. Up and down and up again. At any weight, my stomach was never socially acceptable. It stuck out in T-shirts. Sheath dresses pulled across my lower abdomen and a-line dresses made me look ripe with child. If I had a quarter for every time someone asked me when I was due, I would have at least 10 bucks! And it never got less traumatic! The last time someone asked me, I was at my lowest adult weight which was about five years ago. I died a bit inside. All of my hardwork and discipline and exercise and Spanx and thoughtful dressing (every time I tried to wear boho flowy tops, someone asked me, so I gave those up cold turkey) and STILL….I was still being mistaken for pregnant.
When I met Awful, I was on a boat. I was wearing a bikini. I was thin for me. He later told me that he noticed my smile, my toned legs and how self conscious I was in my bathing suit. He said "the way you sat with a towel draped across your midsection, I could tell how self conscious you were about your belly." It was true. Awful knew how to pick out the weak and insecure and I was both. After we started dating he would tell me that he would "pay to have my stomach lobbed off" and he would squeeze it and call my rolls "the stormy sea." It killed me. All I wanted was a nice smooth flat tummy. I wanted to feel what it was like to not have to worry about being called pregnant by a stranger on the train.
So, one day when Awful was grabbing at my stomach and kneading it aggressively like dough, I took him up on his offer to pay for a tummy tuck. I decided that I wanted to no longer have this weight hanging around my middle. I didn't want a man to judge me for being lumpy. And this kills me. Because I actually secretly loved my stomach. My tummy was a part of me and my own stupid insecurities couldn't let me celebrate it. I am imperfect. So there.
My tummy tuck has settled and it's not without fault. I have a scar and beneath it, I still have stretch marks. I knew that both were going to be there post-operation. They are just very low and now hidden in my pubic hair area. I have two little keloid scars on my upper tummy from liposuction that accompanied my procedure. My skin is very prone to scaring and stretch marks, so this doesn't bother me all that much. The scars have been resistant to silicone sheets and injections and ointments to help reduce them and at this point, it's fine. They only person that really sees my belly is Crush and I hope to keep it this way. I know his love is so pure that he doesn't even notice my lumps, humps and bumps.
In clothes, my body has been hugely improved. Since the procedure, even at my heaviest, I have NEVER been mistaken for pregnant. This in itself pleases me to no bounds. I feel like I can go out in public and walk freely without having snooping glances thrown at me…."is she pregnant or not?!?" I look foxy in tight dresses and I love looking at myself from the side.
I know that my flat tummy may be fleeting. I will hopefully get pregnant and my stomach will change and I will embrace and love my post baby body. Sometimes I secretly look forward to my cosmetic tummy becoming undone, so it will officially erase Awful from my body. I would actually take a not so flat tummy over having to be reminded of him on a daily basis. When I look at my belly, I often think of just how AWFUL he was.
For years, all I wanted to do was to wear a bikini. It was a dream of mine. I fantasized about it in high school and cut out bikini clad models from YM for diet motivation. When I finally made my WeightWatchers goal weight in college and bought a bikini at age twenty-one, I cried tears of joy in the Dillards dressing room. But, in a two piece, I never felt confident. I positioned myself laying down strategically on lounge chairs and waited for friends to be deep in conversations before I would venture into the ocean or restroom. I hid out on pool steps, so my midsection was covered by chlorinated water and always put a towel, pillow or book in front of my belly when I wasn't soaking myself.
As I get older, I want to feel good in my skin. I want to feel proud of the person I am. Imperfections and all. Even if I am still sporting twenty or so extra pounds. Even if many of my friends still wear bikinis and still look amazing in them. So, I took a new approach and I bought a one piece. I am never going back…..
In my one pieces (I now own three that I LOVE), I feel curvy, shapely and sexy. My tummy looks flat, my shoulders look strong, I have no back fat (I hated how I looked from the back in a bikini). I feel like I can sit upright on my lounge chair and walk anywhere I want without a towel or cover up. It is extraordinarily liberating. I look forward to putting on my bathing suit and heading to the beach because I love how I look. I know I am projecting confidence and even I can't believe it, but I have been complimented at the beach several (for real) times in my new favorite one piece (retro style with black and white polka dots) and I even had a lady chase me down to ask me where I got it from (Target). I think anyone can wear anything they want to the beach, regardless of their size. For me, no matter my weight, I just never felt at peace in a two piece.
As the days to my wedding tick down, I anticipate how I will look on my big day. I don't care about being skinny anymore.
The way I want to look is HAPPY.
It feels good.
I have said it a million times, but transitions are my enemy. I like the feeling of knowing exactly what will happen. I like schedules and set routines. I like knowing my way around. I need to stop being such a clenched hard-on.
Lately, I am trying my best to be in the moment. I am reading books I have always wanted to and I am finding peace (and not anxiety) in my thoughts. I am eating and sleeping better. I am trying my best to react minimally to countless last minute plans (thanks (NOT) in-laws to be) and to be open to experiencing new friends and new places.
I have mentioned it before, but I had a tummy tuck a few years ago. It was something that was encouraged by Awful and I am still conflicted that I went through with it at all. Especially because I wasn't open about it with my family. Ever since that major surgery, I know that I can't do anything that I wouldn't tell them. That is my conscious barometer.
My stomach has always been "my area." Growing up it stuck out like a shelf. When I glance at the little girl photos of me, I look like I swallowed an entire watermelon. Firm and full. By junior high, it got softer and smaller. I had one large roll when I stood and three medium rolls when I sat. Even though I had thin arms and legs, my stomach labeled me as fat and I was known as a fat girl when the boys ranked the girls. By high school, I started to get breasts and hips. My stomach flattened a bit and above the belly button, I had a very distinct waist and firm upper midsection. I could finally see my feet when I showered! Below the belly button was another story entirely. I was mushy with a soft lower belly. I was told I had a fupa (fat upper pelvic (pussy) area). I did. When I got to college, I put on weight VERY rapidly. About twenty-five pounds in a matter of weeks. I developed angry red and itchy stretch marks on my lower tummy. They haunted and depressed me every time I looked in the mirror and discouraged me from making the necessary healthy eating changes I needed to. As an eighteen year old girl, I thought to myself, "why lose weight, because of my stretch marks, I will never be able to wear a bikini anyway!" Eventually, I did lose weight. My first big weight loss came a year and a half after my first big weight gain. The stretch marks started to fade a bit and with a higher cut bikini bottom (which were in style much more in 2001 than they are now), I could even hide them.
I rode this weight roller coaster all throughout my twenties. Up and down and up again. At any weight, my stomach was never socially acceptable. It stuck out in T-shirts. Sheath dresses pulled across my lower abdomen and a-line dresses made me look ripe with child. If I had a quarter for every time someone asked me when I was due, I would have at least 10 bucks! And it never got less traumatic! The last time someone asked me, I was at my lowest adult weight which was about five years ago. I died a bit inside. All of my hardwork and discipline and exercise and Spanx and thoughtful dressing (every time I tried to wear boho flowy tops, someone asked me, so I gave those up cold turkey) and STILL….I was still being mistaken for pregnant.
When I met Awful, I was on a boat. I was wearing a bikini. I was thin for me. He later told me that he noticed my smile, my toned legs and how self conscious I was in my bathing suit. He said "the way you sat with a towel draped across your midsection, I could tell how self conscious you were about your belly." It was true. Awful knew how to pick out the weak and insecure and I was both. After we started dating he would tell me that he would "pay to have my stomach lobbed off" and he would squeeze it and call my rolls "the stormy sea." It killed me. All I wanted was a nice smooth flat tummy. I wanted to feel what it was like to not have to worry about being called pregnant by a stranger on the train.
So, one day when Awful was grabbing at my stomach and kneading it aggressively like dough, I took him up on his offer to pay for a tummy tuck. I decided that I wanted to no longer have this weight hanging around my middle. I didn't want a man to judge me for being lumpy. And this kills me. Because I actually secretly loved my stomach. My tummy was a part of me and my own stupid insecurities couldn't let me celebrate it. I am imperfect. So there.
My tummy tuck has settled and it's not without fault. I have a scar and beneath it, I still have stretch marks. I knew that both were going to be there post-operation. They are just very low and now hidden in my pubic hair area. I have two little keloid scars on my upper tummy from liposuction that accompanied my procedure. My skin is very prone to scaring and stretch marks, so this doesn't bother me all that much. The scars have been resistant to silicone sheets and injections and ointments to help reduce them and at this point, it's fine. They only person that really sees my belly is Crush and I hope to keep it this way. I know his love is so pure that he doesn't even notice my lumps, humps and bumps.
In clothes, my body has been hugely improved. Since the procedure, even at my heaviest, I have NEVER been mistaken for pregnant. This in itself pleases me to no bounds. I feel like I can go out in public and walk freely without having snooping glances thrown at me…."is she pregnant or not?!?" I look foxy in tight dresses and I love looking at myself from the side.
I know that my flat tummy may be fleeting. I will hopefully get pregnant and my stomach will change and I will embrace and love my post baby body. Sometimes I secretly look forward to my cosmetic tummy becoming undone, so it will officially erase Awful from my body. I would actually take a not so flat tummy over having to be reminded of him on a daily basis. When I look at my belly, I often think of just how AWFUL he was.
For years, all I wanted to do was to wear a bikini. It was a dream of mine. I fantasized about it in high school and cut out bikini clad models from YM for diet motivation. When I finally made my WeightWatchers goal weight in college and bought a bikini at age twenty-one, I cried tears of joy in the Dillards dressing room. But, in a two piece, I never felt confident. I positioned myself laying down strategically on lounge chairs and waited for friends to be deep in conversations before I would venture into the ocean or restroom. I hid out on pool steps, so my midsection was covered by chlorinated water and always put a towel, pillow or book in front of my belly when I wasn't soaking myself.
As I get older, I want to feel good in my skin. I want to feel proud of the person I am. Imperfections and all. Even if I am still sporting twenty or so extra pounds. Even if many of my friends still wear bikinis and still look amazing in them. So, I took a new approach and I bought a one piece. I am never going back…..
In my one pieces (I now own three that I LOVE), I feel curvy, shapely and sexy. My tummy looks flat, my shoulders look strong, I have no back fat (I hated how I looked from the back in a bikini). I feel like I can sit upright on my lounge chair and walk anywhere I want without a towel or cover up. It is extraordinarily liberating. I look forward to putting on my bathing suit and heading to the beach because I love how I look. I know I am projecting confidence and even I can't believe it, but I have been complimented at the beach several (for real) times in my new favorite one piece (retro style with black and white polka dots) and I even had a lady chase me down to ask me where I got it from (Target). I think anyone can wear anything they want to the beach, regardless of their size. For me, no matter my weight, I just never felt at peace in a two piece.
As the days to my wedding tick down, I anticipate how I will look on my big day. I don't care about being skinny anymore.
The way I want to look is HAPPY.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
The S Word
Skinny.
FUCK IT.
Crush and I are in a bit of a tiff.
Lately, he keeps talking about how skinny everyone is. It is really triggering me.
I feel that little voice inside me. Calling me. Tempting me. "Starve R&F. See how long you can restrict your calories so Crush will say you are ALSO skinny."
Every bout of dieting until this last one which I started BEFORE I even met Crush, was because of a comment about my weight by a man. Every single time. For me diets start after insults. Therefore, I have not been able to lose weight because I have never done it for me. For my health. For my needs. I did it so men would call me skinny and MOSTLY, so no one would call me falsely pregnant or fat.
But, I am fat now. Fluffy. I am for me and I am okay with it. I have a boyfriend who loves me. I have been to the gym the last 6 days in a row. I have been on WeightWatchers on plan for nearly 3 weeks. I am feeling good. I want to be thinner, but I don't want to be skinny.
Crush cannot stop:
"Your friend Lynn is skinny"
"Your sister is so skinny after 2 kids"
"Your cousin is skinny and has such toned arms"
"My mom wants you to try to set my brother up, but she says he only likes skinny girls."
Today shit hit the fan. While discussing my cousin above, he told me in passing "you are so much bigger than your cousin."
I am. She is 5'0" and I am 5'10". She is in a skinny phase of her life. She is under tremendous pressure. Crush doesn't know anything about her.
I went NUTS.
Because I have a feeling his mom is telling him that I am great and beautiful, but that I should lose weight, especially if we are to be married in the near future. I often have these delusional fantasies about my weight and what people say about it negatively....but, I can read Crush like an open book. I KNOW him. I also know how important thin is to his family and how his sister lost 40+ pounds for her wedding and in my opinion took it WAY WAY too far as she looked gorgeous before (and the excessive weight loss took away from her beauty) and I think she felt she needed to be the absolute skinniest she could EVER be, so no one could call her fat.....I know how it feels to be told that, "you have such a pretty face, BUT..." SUCKS!
I asked him directly about all the skinny stuff and why he can't stop commenting on it and he is hemming and hawing and said he loves me just the way I am which I believe.
The only thing Crush is guilty of is that he is a TOTAL momma's boy and his momma is an excellent person, but I think she was brought up in fear of being fat, so it is ingrained in her. Anything over skinny, so even normal weight, is fat to her. I have noticed that she talks about food, her weight, and other people's weight a lot. Crush has no idea about healthy food and unhealthy food. He is lucky he has such a great metabolism. He is clueless when it comes to diet and nutrition.
My fear isn't as much about me. I just don't want that skinny talk in my home, especially if we have daughters.
My Sissy fights it on the daily as her mother-in-law has food issues and is very particular with what my sister puts in her kids mouths...they once got in a fight because she didn't want Big Baby to have strawberries because they have sugar.....OY!
Nothing in life in perfect. Even the best ones have something. I think this will be our little struggle and I am staying firm and fat (ish)...literally.
FUCK IT.
Crush and I are in a bit of a tiff.
Lately, he keeps talking about how skinny everyone is. It is really triggering me.
I feel that little voice inside me. Calling me. Tempting me. "Starve R&F. See how long you can restrict your calories so Crush will say you are ALSO skinny."
Every bout of dieting until this last one which I started BEFORE I even met Crush, was because of a comment about my weight by a man. Every single time. For me diets start after insults. Therefore, I have not been able to lose weight because I have never done it for me. For my health. For my needs. I did it so men would call me skinny and MOSTLY, so no one would call me falsely pregnant or fat.
But, I am fat now. Fluffy. I am for me and I am okay with it. I have a boyfriend who loves me. I have been to the gym the last 6 days in a row. I have been on WeightWatchers on plan for nearly 3 weeks. I am feeling good. I want to be thinner, but I don't want to be skinny.
Crush cannot stop:
"Your friend Lynn is skinny"
"Your sister is so skinny after 2 kids"
"Your cousin is skinny and has such toned arms"
"My mom wants you to try to set my brother up, but she says he only likes skinny girls."
Today shit hit the fan. While discussing my cousin above, he told me in passing "you are so much bigger than your cousin."
I am. She is 5'0" and I am 5'10". She is in a skinny phase of her life. She is under tremendous pressure. Crush doesn't know anything about her.
I went NUTS.
Because I have a feeling his mom is telling him that I am great and beautiful, but that I should lose weight, especially if we are to be married in the near future. I often have these delusional fantasies about my weight and what people say about it negatively....but, I can read Crush like an open book. I KNOW him. I also know how important thin is to his family and how his sister lost 40+ pounds for her wedding and in my opinion took it WAY WAY too far as she looked gorgeous before (and the excessive weight loss took away from her beauty) and I think she felt she needed to be the absolute skinniest she could EVER be, so no one could call her fat.....I know how it feels to be told that, "you have such a pretty face, BUT..." SUCKS!
I asked him directly about all the skinny stuff and why he can't stop commenting on it and he is hemming and hawing and said he loves me just the way I am which I believe.
The only thing Crush is guilty of is that he is a TOTAL momma's boy and his momma is an excellent person, but I think she was brought up in fear of being fat, so it is ingrained in her. Anything over skinny, so even normal weight, is fat to her. I have noticed that she talks about food, her weight, and other people's weight a lot. Crush has no idea about healthy food and unhealthy food. He is lucky he has such a great metabolism. He is clueless when it comes to diet and nutrition.
My fear isn't as much about me. I just don't want that skinny talk in my home, especially if we have daughters.
My Sissy fights it on the daily as her mother-in-law has food issues and is very particular with what my sister puts in her kids mouths...they once got in a fight because she didn't want Big Baby to have strawberries because they have sugar.....OY!
Nothing in life in perfect. Even the best ones have something. I think this will be our little struggle and I am staying firm and fat (ish)...literally.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
I Only Remember the Bad Things
When I was 3, I was first called fat at nursery school by a boy in my class, I remember what I was wearing that day (overalls and a pink shirt) and how I first become aware of my body.
When I was 4, I overhead my grandma telling my dad that she was concerned I would have a weight problem for the rest of my life and he should put me on a diet.
When I was 5, a girl in my kindergarten classed asked me why I was "so big" and I went home and cried.
When I was 7, my mom told me to stop eating pretzel rods because I was becoming a piggy and I went to my room and thought about how I eat too much.
When I was 10, the boys rated the girls in my grade on face, body, and personality. I got an 8 for face, a 2 for body, and a 10 for personality.
When I was 11, the boys one year older than me nicknamed me ogre. They chanted it to me (about 25 of them) at lunch time and screamed it in the halls. My dad went over to the 2 ringleaders homes' and confronted them after months of it when I stopped eating, sleeping, or wanting to go to school. I never spoke to most of those boys for years to follow, I was afraid of them. I still have nightmares about this. Being circled by a bunch of pre-pubescent boys and being chanted out because of my body was by far one of the most hurtful things that has ever happened. It never really went away all through junior high and high school, I was still referred to as ogre by some until the boys a year ahead of me went to college.
When I was 14, I overhead a boy I had a crush on telling his friend that he knew I liked him and he just couldn't get over how big I was. I was a size 8 and 5'8".
When I was 16, a boy I used to make out with told me to lose weight. I did. He then asked me out.
When I was 17, the boys in my grade dared the boy I liked to touch my butt because it was apparently so big and disgusting that it required a dare.
When I was 18, I dressed up for Halloween and got mistaken for a man. I still hate wearing wigs because of this.
When I was 20, I found out that a person I considered a friend had a secret nickname for me that involved a hippo. I joined WeightWatchers the next day.
When I was 25, I dated a man with serious mental issues who told me I was obese. I was 30 pounds thinner than I am now.
When I was 27, I ran into a guy from high school who seemed interested in me, until his friends asked me if I had a penis because apparently at almost 5'10" (really 5' 9" and a half), I am such a freak of nature that I seem like a man, even though I am actually quite feminine (I always feel bad when people make fun of Khloe Kardashian, my body is like hers and I would so be made fun of if I was famous!).
When I was 28, I dated Awful and he encouraged me to have plastic surgery on my stomach because I had rolls and stretch marks on my abdomen. I went ahead with it because I was scared if I didn't, he would break up with me.
When I was 31, I fell in love with some special...myself! I stripped myself down naked and stood in front of the mirror and realized that I have a lot to be happy about. My curves are beautiful, my height is statuesque, and my breasts are adorable. Then, I fell in love with an incredible man who loves every single inch of me and makes me feel so beautiful, always.
Don't feel bad for me. People often tell me wonderful things about me, the compliments far outweigh the insults. I just chose to never hear the positives and got stuck focusing on the negatives until recently and the only person at fault here is me because I let the opinions of others influence the way I lived my life and the choices I made.
Now, I process, acknowledge, and accept compliments and go deaf to the insults.
People who insult are simply looking for love.....the kind of love that only comes from loving yourself.
When I was 4, I overhead my grandma telling my dad that she was concerned I would have a weight problem for the rest of my life and he should put me on a diet.
When I was 5, a girl in my kindergarten classed asked me why I was "so big" and I went home and cried.
When I was 7, my mom told me to stop eating pretzel rods because I was becoming a piggy and I went to my room and thought about how I eat too much.
When I was 10, the boys rated the girls in my grade on face, body, and personality. I got an 8 for face, a 2 for body, and a 10 for personality.
When I was 11, the boys one year older than me nicknamed me ogre. They chanted it to me (about 25 of them) at lunch time and screamed it in the halls. My dad went over to the 2 ringleaders homes' and confronted them after months of it when I stopped eating, sleeping, or wanting to go to school. I never spoke to most of those boys for years to follow, I was afraid of them. I still have nightmares about this. Being circled by a bunch of pre-pubescent boys and being chanted out because of my body was by far one of the most hurtful things that has ever happened. It never really went away all through junior high and high school, I was still referred to as ogre by some until the boys a year ahead of me went to college.
When I was 14, I overhead a boy I had a crush on telling his friend that he knew I liked him and he just couldn't get over how big I was. I was a size 8 and 5'8".
When I was 16, a boy I used to make out with told me to lose weight. I did. He then asked me out.
When I was 17, the boys in my grade dared the boy I liked to touch my butt because it was apparently so big and disgusting that it required a dare.
When I was 18, I dressed up for Halloween and got mistaken for a man. I still hate wearing wigs because of this.
When I was 20, I found out that a person I considered a friend had a secret nickname for me that involved a hippo. I joined WeightWatchers the next day.
When I was 25, I dated a man with serious mental issues who told me I was obese. I was 30 pounds thinner than I am now.
When I was 27, I ran into a guy from high school who seemed interested in me, until his friends asked me if I had a penis because apparently at almost 5'10" (really 5' 9" and a half), I am such a freak of nature that I seem like a man, even though I am actually quite feminine (I always feel bad when people make fun of Khloe Kardashian, my body is like hers and I would so be made fun of if I was famous!).
When I was 28, I dated Awful and he encouraged me to have plastic surgery on my stomach because I had rolls and stretch marks on my abdomen. I went ahead with it because I was scared if I didn't, he would break up with me.
When I was 31, I fell in love with some special...myself! I stripped myself down naked and stood in front of the mirror and realized that I have a lot to be happy about. My curves are beautiful, my height is statuesque, and my breasts are adorable. Then, I fell in love with an incredible man who loves every single inch of me and makes me feel so beautiful, always.
Don't feel bad for me. People often tell me wonderful things about me, the compliments far outweigh the insults. I just chose to never hear the positives and got stuck focusing on the negatives until recently and the only person at fault here is me because I let the opinions of others influence the way I lived my life and the choices I made.
Now, I process, acknowledge, and accept compliments and go deaf to the insults.
People who insult are simply looking for love.....the kind of love that only comes from loving yourself.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
BIG Girl
I have always been described as being a big girl. By age 4, I was almost as tall as my sister, who was nearing 7. I am not fat, per se, soft in the middle yes (well until recently), but I am big. Broad shoulders, wide hips, larges hands and feet (down to a size 9.5 now that I have recently lost some weight!).
As I have mentioned before, I actually, personally, don't really have an issue with my own size. The issue I have is that other people seem to have an issue with it.
I can remember being young and visiting my grandmother, a ritual that was dedicated to most Saturday afternoons growing up. One day as lunch was wrapping up, she offered my sister some cookies and didn't offer me any. I remember being super confused as those butter cookies from the blue tin were my favorite (especially the pretzel shaped ones covered in the sugar crystals) and I asked for a few, too. She looked at me for a few beats too long with a rare sternness that I had never seen before and said:
"You are too chubby to have cookies anymore. Your sister is a nice weight for a little girl. You are getting very round. I am helping you. Look at your aunt (her daughter) she was beautiful like you and always struggled with her weight and now she is heavy, huge. You don't want to be like her. You are going to have to work at being shapely and I am going help you. You have a beautiful face, you do, but you will always be big if you don't try not to be. Your sister, she will have an easier time being thin, but she isn't nearly as pretty. Men like woman who are small, since you are going to be so tall, you will have to work extra hard to be lean."
My sister and I were little girls at the time of this conversation.....5 and 8 perhaps. We both remember it and we both don't really love this grandmother as much as we should. I consider it to be the day that I lost some of my innocence, that I really became aware of my body and my size. Grandmother taught me that having one good thing, like a "pretty face" wouldn't be enough if I couldn't match it will a thin body. I remember going to school that fall and comparing myself to every other little girl in the classroom. Thinking, I am prettier than her, but I am bigger than her. What did grandma do to me? I remember coming home and crying because there was only one little girl in the entire classroom that was bigger than me.....grandma was right, I really was huge.
Being called out on being big then became a fear of mine. I hated the way that lunchtime conversation made me feel. Being shamed in front of my older sister, the idol of any little sister, about my size. I know in my heart, I wasn't a small girl, but my mom and dad, they never made much of a big deal. I was tall, I would be tall like some of the women in my family, no big deal. And they were right, I reached my final height of 5'9 (and a half) before I even arrived at college. No big deal.
I went through school, all of school, college included, in fear of being called fat. I know this is crazy, but I did. And I was called fat many times. I was also a huge asshole to people myself sometimes, so perhaps this is the easy thing to call me, "fat", because as grandma already informed me, I am lucky to NOT be fat and ugly. Fat AND ugly is the real problem....
I have been considering going back to school to get a masters in a subject I love, for fun, at my own pace, not for any career incentive. I wasted my school years being afraid of being called out. I would love to return to school secure in myself. To not worry about weight, social standing, or what I would wear to class. I mean, imagine going to class and having the only objective be to learn?!
What a novel idea.
As I have mentioned before, I actually, personally, don't really have an issue with my own size. The issue I have is that other people seem to have an issue with it.
I can remember being young and visiting my grandmother, a ritual that was dedicated to most Saturday afternoons growing up. One day as lunch was wrapping up, she offered my sister some cookies and didn't offer me any. I remember being super confused as those butter cookies from the blue tin were my favorite (especially the pretzel shaped ones covered in the sugar crystals) and I asked for a few, too. She looked at me for a few beats too long with a rare sternness that I had never seen before and said:
"You are too chubby to have cookies anymore. Your sister is a nice weight for a little girl. You are getting very round. I am helping you. Look at your aunt (her daughter) she was beautiful like you and always struggled with her weight and now she is heavy, huge. You don't want to be like her. You are going to have to work at being shapely and I am going help you. You have a beautiful face, you do, but you will always be big if you don't try not to be. Your sister, she will have an easier time being thin, but she isn't nearly as pretty. Men like woman who are small, since you are going to be so tall, you will have to work extra hard to be lean."
My sister and I were little girls at the time of this conversation.....5 and 8 perhaps. We both remember it and we both don't really love this grandmother as much as we should. I consider it to be the day that I lost some of my innocence, that I really became aware of my body and my size. Grandmother taught me that having one good thing, like a "pretty face" wouldn't be enough if I couldn't match it will a thin body. I remember going to school that fall and comparing myself to every other little girl in the classroom. Thinking, I am prettier than her, but I am bigger than her. What did grandma do to me? I remember coming home and crying because there was only one little girl in the entire classroom that was bigger than me.....grandma was right, I really was huge.
Being called out on being big then became a fear of mine. I hated the way that lunchtime conversation made me feel. Being shamed in front of my older sister, the idol of any little sister, about my size. I know in my heart, I wasn't a small girl, but my mom and dad, they never made much of a big deal. I was tall, I would be tall like some of the women in my family, no big deal. And they were right, I reached my final height of 5'9 (and a half) before I even arrived at college. No big deal.
I went through school, all of school, college included, in fear of being called fat. I know this is crazy, but I did. And I was called fat many times. I was also a huge asshole to people myself sometimes, so perhaps this is the easy thing to call me, "fat", because as grandma already informed me, I am lucky to NOT be fat and ugly. Fat AND ugly is the real problem....
I have been considering going back to school to get a masters in a subject I love, for fun, at my own pace, not for any career incentive. I wasted my school years being afraid of being called out. I would love to return to school secure in myself. To not worry about weight, social standing, or what I would wear to class. I mean, imagine going to class and having the only objective be to learn?!
What a novel idea.
Weight Status 2
I am holding steady so out of the 30 I want to lose, I am down 13 pounds. I am happy. I am also experiencing my monthly "gift" which always requires me to retain lots of water, so I am excited to hop on the scale come Friday and get a better reading.
It is funny, but years ago, at this very weight, the weight I am now, I would have felt and looked rather chubs. But, now, I am fitting into smaller sizes, my face is less puffy, I actually like the number very much on me. And yes, I did have plastic surgery to fix the tummy, so this helps too, I am sure.
I am taking it one day at a time, but I will say, I am really liking my bod these days and I am finding peace in that fact. I actually look at myself in the mirror and think....."I can work with this" and not "WHY? FUCK! HOW! I HATE MYSELF!", so like I said...progress!
It is funny, but years ago, at this very weight, the weight I am now, I would have felt and looked rather chubs. But, now, I am fitting into smaller sizes, my face is less puffy, I actually like the number very much on me. And yes, I did have plastic surgery to fix the tummy, so this helps too, I am sure.
I am taking it one day at a time, but I will say, I am really liking my bod these days and I am finding peace in that fact. I actually look at myself in the mirror and think....."I can work with this" and not "WHY? FUCK! HOW! I HATE MYSELF!", so like I said...progress!
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