I was given a gift yesterday. A good friend shared a post on Facebook leading me to an amazing woman.
I was lead to the blog of The Militant Baker. This lovely lady blew my mind.
Her post from March rocked me to my core.
Now dearies I am a big woman. I have struggled with lots of variables that have created this form. Starvation, under active thyroid, poly cystic ovaries, depression, poor eating and exercise habits, under eating, dieting and I could go on.
My body image is so skewed that when I was 125 of solid muscle and a tiny size 4, I thought I was a monster.
I regularly see myself as hideous. I have always avoided mirrors and photographs. Who wants to be reminded they are ugly right?
But it's not true. I see old photos shared by college friends on Facebook and frequently I am so shocked to see a lovely woman that it takes a second look to realize it's me.
I read Jes' blog and saw a gorgeous woman. I agreed with her 10 things. Yet I immediately thought wow I would never look that good again. I am too big/old/scarred.
Then the comments hit me. You see we are the same size. I see her as beautiful but myself as repulsive.
I never have seen myself as beautiful not in high school, college, my wedding day, not pregnant. But thankfully I was given one brief moment of true sight.
After my kidlet was born, like 9 hours after birth, I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was that shock of un-recognition. There was this radiantly beautiful creature looking back at me and holy fuck it IS me!
But all too soon the wacky wiring in my head twisted my perceptions once again.
I once was told I look like Kim Kardshian. After I looked up who the hell she was I was all: 'dude nice to taunt the fat chick-you asshole' and dismissed him.
I ALWAYS dismiss compliments. I NEVER believe anyone (husband included) that I am attractive. I am not phishing for more compliments with my denials. I just can't accept the idea that anyone might really find me attractive.
I am NOT coy.
I did at one time laud my big chest because I 'just knew' that's all I had going for me.
How sad is that? I sure as hell do not want to pass along my fun house, seriously broken-brained, body image to my kidlet.
I work to be healthier. I lost 50lbs last year. Yep I was knocking on 300lbs. And I was super proud. I cut my Type 2 risk by 10%. But the loose skin and the not losing a clothes size as what fits looks like full body camel toe due to the landslide of flesh just devastated me. How freaking cruel. I lose an ass ton of weight but look awful. I am stuck in clothes now sizes too big. I now swim in textile where once I was encased in fat. I gave into the fun house and declared who cares you're old and fat and ugly and been with your man 20 years.
But IT'S A LIE. At now 264 I am just as strong as I was chucking over a ton of boxes, several times a day, 6 days a week. I am man strong. I can lift and move marble and mahogany sinks without assistance. I did that. I can embrace my strength, I can revel my quick mind, but accepting that my body is beautiful is harder than childbirth.
It has taken a young baker/blogger/model/mental health professional to open the door of the fun house and awaken in me a drive to shatter all my false images of myself.
Thank you. Thank you for clubbing into my noggin: truth.
Thank you Jes for dragging me away from my narcissistic love affair with twistedness and illusion.
Now which of my glorious friends will take me shopping? I need an honest, brutal, loving hand. I want someone who will assist me to see in the mirror correctly and help me reclaim my Goddesshood! Any of my drag queen friends free? You know more about femininity and what not to wear and fierceness that all the Joan Rivers of this world combined.
I must retrain my brain. And I will learn to see what so many of my loved ones see: the actual me.
And I am so not a number on a scale!