In the past year, I have somehow managed to make real peace with my weight.
This isn’t going to be one of those posts where I tell you how I did it or offer some amazing tips and magic elixir to make you love yourself. Because, the fact is, I don’t always love myself. I still sometimes catch glimpses of my upper arms and cringe or shudder when a man touches my stomach. I longingly gaze at some items of clothing in my closet and occasionally there is a bit of sadness when scrolling through Faceboook photos. Even when there is peace, there are moments of unrest and uncertainty, but over all, there is calm.
There are plenty of things about myself I don’t like; my weight is just falling lower and lower on that list. I desperately wish I could somehow learn to love to clean. I am far too capricious with my money at times. My self righteousness gets me in far more trouble than my pants size.
I think there is this unspoken rule that when you are a larger woman or overweight or not fitting in to some cookie cutter idea of what is considered attractive, that you should hate yourself. And I can’t. The reflection in the mirror is but a very small piece of me. And I hate how fucking inspirational and schlocky that sounds, but at the end of the day, it is true. The same people have loved me the whole time I have sprinted up and down the scale. My dating life has remained active. Hell, my job and living situation have gotten better the whole time the pounds were creeping back on. I don’t see many adverse side effects to this weight gain.
Yes. I am angry that I managed to lose all that weight five years ago and most of it has crept back on. But I am angry at the sickness that brought me here, that has robbed me of my easier shopping trips and a thinner reflection. I vacillate between swallowing my feelings about this illness and raging a red, hot fury.
But, I am doing my best. I am living my life on my terms; still eating out far more than I probably should but balancing it with healthy meals and smart choices. As I type this, my clothes are still damp from this evening’s trip to the gym. I refuse to be that annoying woman who is a nightmare to eat with because of all her dietary restrictions, nor do I want to just give up and let this syndrome stop me from working hard. I will take care of myself and not throw my hands up. I refuse to use this as any kind of excuse to let myself go. Letting go isn’t really in my nature.
I have made peace with my weight. Not because I am enlightened or evolved or have really figured anything out at all. I just refuse to hate myself when I know, that when I look in the mirror, the person staring back at me is a good one. I will not hide or wallow. I am fighting my battles the best I can and approaching it the best I know how.
And really, that is all I can ask of myself.
{ 37 comments… read them below or add one }
A-fucking-men, my friend.
Thanks, TJ
You’re beautiful. Inside and out.
You are far too kind.
Making peace with your body isn’t an overnight process, as you seem to understand. I had weight loss surgery 15 months ago, am at, essentially, the thinnest weight of my adult life and still, look in the mirror some days and only see flaws. Honestly, freedom from the food and weight prison isn’t something I see myself achieving in a matter of months or even years. I think it will be something I’m chipping away at for the rest of my life. At the risk of being one of those annoying SAHM that refers to Oprah, I’m going to leave you with some advice for “living with the self we have”:
There was a woman on Oprah a few years back who was burned beyond recognition due to a drunk driving accident. She went from an outwardly stunningly beautiful woman to looking like someone who, by her own admittance, frightened small children and adults alike. She told Oprah that she allowed herself only 5 minutes a day to pity herself. She allowed herself only 5 minutes a day to focus on the flaws and the pain and the things she hated. 5 mintues a day to to cry.
On a much, much smaller scale, this is something that I’m trying to do as well. I allow myself 5 minutes a day to hate my flabby stomach, my stretch marks, my saggy breasts and then I force myself to focus on the positive — or not think about my body at all, for that matter. There are some days when I just can’t stick to this 5 minutes but I’m trying. Hoping to keep chipping away until I see that what I have — no, what I am — is beautiful.
Even though I am not a huge Oprah fan, I do like that woman’s philosophy. I think it is ok to dwell and wallow, but it has to be measured.
Bravo
Hollah
as long as you’re happy with who you are, nothing else matters
True, but so hard to do sometimes.
most definitely. took me 2 years (and yes, a lot of lost weight) to realize i wasn’t so bad. i’m still working on being a better person, to improve on the good that’s already there
I’ve put on about 10 pounds this year due to work being crazy stressful busy, and due to my gym membership expiring (they only let you join for six months or twelve months, and when it expired, I had three months left in Canberra…). I hate that my clothes don’t fit the way they used to, and that I feel guilty for letting it get this way.
So basically? Thank you. You have no idea how many chords this struck for me.
Hey, we are all in this together.
All you need is love, darling.
Very true, Mr. Lennon.
I have recently found a similar comfort with my body. I’m actually at probably my healthiest weight ever (which means I’d like to be about 7 pounds smaller) but that’s never really made me comfortable with my body.
In my head, I’ve always kind of remained the size 14 I was in high school, though my jeans now are smaller. Something about getting more active in swing dance and dodgeball (totes a grownup over here) though, and just knowing my body more has freed up my personal body image a little bit.
I kind of think that it’s a growing up thing, where you really realize that all that stuff that people have been telling us our whole lives about the inside mattering more, that actually is pretty accurate.
Congrats to getting there. I know I’ve never met you, but the pictures I’ve seen have totally matched the awesome person I’ve “met” through this blog and twitter!
Thanks, Katherine. I think sometimes it takes the mind a while to catch up to the body, but we get there eventually.
Congratulations, I am on my way there but i’m not there yet by any means. I still have that ‘weight’ as my ideal when my shape and health is better now than ever
And the health part is so important.
Teach me how to rock like you.
I will say that one advantage of getting older, and this started at 30 for me, is that you become more comfortable in your own skin. But I still obsess about my weight daily and spend lots of time beating myself up for everything I eat. Wish I could get to your peace.
On the plus side, I don’t spend as much time envying your thick shiny hair as I might have before
Well, the hair isn’t nearly as long as it used to be…so worry not.
i’m happy that you are at a comfy place. i think you are gorgeous inside and out, and i’m glad that you see that too. xoxo
And you are gorgeous as well, my friend.
Ohhh, Lexa. Such a wonderful post. And so very true. I have thought these same things so many times—that even though what I see in the mirror isn’t the ideal body or the perfect weight, it is still ME, and I love her, despite the softness around the middle.
Sometimes I think self-acceptance is one of the hardest things to attain. This post reminded me that, yes, it might be hard, but it isn’t impossible.
It is nearly impossible, but I think we are both getting there. Is 30 some magic number?
Preach. It’s so Whitney Houston, but self-love really is the greatest love of all.
this is lovely. so, so lovely. i wish you could tell all the teenagers not to worry. but loving your own body is something many women never achieve. kudos.
Can I get an Amen? It’s not easy. I’m not sure when I learned to do it - I think maybe being a late bloomer ironically helped with this. It’s terrible to say it, but part of what brought on the self-acceptance on my end was the realization that i am, in fact, attractive to many people and learning how to dress myself. So, I wasn’t confident until 22. Whatevs. I am now, right? PCOS is a bitch, and I know that from firsthand experience. Cheers to you for living life and refusing to punish yourself.
oh dear god, chica, have i mentioned recently how much i adore you? i frequently feel like you’re my east coast, much younger (damn you!) siamese twin. xo
Hear hear…
I’m in somewhat the same place when it comes to my body, and a few other things about me… finally.
I love you!
And if you figure out how to love cleaning, let me know. I hate it too!
i feel realizations of this sort sneaking up on me as well and it’s pretty damn amazing…you are so correct. at the end of the day the physical self is a small part of all of the cogs and pieces that make a human…while health is of course important, body image deserves far less focus than it receives. congratulations - peace is a lovely place to be.
As soon as I hit SEND I realized that I wanted my comment to be:
All you need is self love, darling.
Anyway, one of the things that I like about being older is that I’m smarter about making myself happy. If I can’t live with something then I change it. If I can’t change it I learn to live with it.
You’re adorable, Lemmonex.
THIS, among many other reasons, is why I admire the shit out of you.
This was a wonderful post. This is why you are one of the only blogs I read these days. You speak from the heart and you have a conviction that is impossible to fake. 30 does feel like a magic pill sometimes…letting us let go of a lot of the insecurity of our 20s. There is truly nothing like genuine self-awareness, self-acceptance, and self-love. I feel all three and five years ago I would never have thought that possible. Amen to being the best we can be and not reprimanding ourselves too harshly when we fuck up.
Huh. Coulda sworn that I commented this already (and if so, whoops) but Lex, I just wanted to say you are an inspiration. I couldn’t figure out a better way to say that, so I’ll let you have a moment to vomit.
Ehem.
Ok, anyway, your head is on so straight (I know, you’re laughing at me) that I keep tabs on you just to remind myself that one day that could be me. You’re fantastic. YAY you.
Enter premature menopause in my life and I’m right there with you. Suddenly, a lot more living happily and peacefully with the way I am makes a lot more sense.