A Weighty Issue

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I long to be thin. Well not so thin that I would break with a gust of wind but a solid, healthy woman.

Funny thing is I don’t feel fat. Certain clothing will occasionally make me feel like I’m wearing a barrel around my midsection but if I’m in comfy clothes I don’t feel it. My body remembers my former self, I guess. I was an athlete all through high school and college. And I must’ve lost something somewhere. It was like I switched gears and I am completely in my mind – not in my body.

I’m not feeling…I’m ignoring what I really am.

Then it happens.

I have to buy clothes or I see a photo of myself. I’m always horrified when I see the results.

Mirrors and lighting can be tricky and misleading. But shopping facilitates are designed, especially in the women’s fitting rooms, to have flattering lighting and properly angled mirrors. So if I’m looking like shit in a fitting room – I’m in trouble. And let’s just say I’m not that photogenic.

For the longest time I believed I had an issue with affection. I would shrink away from hugs and feel smothered if someone would linger too long with arms around me. Even if it was my husband. I realize now that it’s not the touch or display of affection I was shying away from… It was the presence of hands on my skin made me aware of my size. Like the touch was allowing me to feel my circumference.

Speaking of awareness, I’ve noticed the crappier I feel about myself the more aware I am about other women around me. And other people’s reaction to them. They are treated better. They walk by and get second glances. Or even smiles. Not that I want to be leered at but knowing others think you are worth looking or smiling at is something.

Did you hear that? Knowing others think your worth looking or smiling at is something.

That’s really messed up.

1. Worth doesn’t come from looks or being thin.

2. And I shouldn’t be looking to others for validation.

These are things I know logically. I know the right answers and my husband is constantly telling me I’m beautiful. But I don’t feel it.

Something is skewed. I don’t want to live life like that. I am fed up. And that’s just fine. At what point does being fed up bring on action? I feel to my core I’m so done with existing in this body* but am I doing as much as I could be?

Part of me thinks I want this change more than most. But another part of me thinks, “how do you know they don’t want it as badly? What are you doing that makes you different from them?” It’s true. My actions are the same as theirs.

Trying the occasional eating plan, exercise, or health regimen is what millions of people do all the time.

I know the code to good health and well-being. [eating right, exercise, drink water, get sleep]

I know what needs to happen. [make small changes over time, get back on the wagon if you fall off, change my environment]

And I know all the right answers. [i am beautiful. our exterior doesn’t define who we are. don’t worry about anyone else, just yourself.]

I burn to be fit and trim – but I’ll still ask: how do I bring this into reality?

 

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*I’m not suicidal. I mean in my body like this.

 

Photo credit: freedigitalphotos.net

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