Saturday, June 16, 2012

Lose the Sweatshirt

Yeah, I'm back.  AGAIN.  Still flabby and still crazy after all this time.  See me there?  That's me with my goal jeans.  Oh well - at least I'm resilient, right?  I'm going to choose to see the positive right now because God knows, my mind has been dwelling in heavy duty negativity for many, many months. 
Why just today I was thinking those dark, nasty ass thoughts about how awful I am, how disgusting I look, and how it is all just hopeless, HOPELESS I SAY!  Before I started tearing my clothes or whipping myself (I was already doing the "gnashing of teeth" that is often described in the Bible when people are really jacked up), I had a moment of clarity, albeit a brief one.  Reality said, "Hey, shut up and be happy in the present!"  So for a minute or two, I took stock of my current situation... I'm mostly healthy (but for my stiff knee and bum "turf" toe), I can get around just fine, I've got a roof over my head, vehicles, groceries, a great husband, a beautiful, healthy son, a thriving business - what's not to like?  What right do I have to complain, really?  None. 

So I'm overweight.  Big deal.  It's fixable.  I am just mad because I don't look the way I want to look and I feel uncomfortable and self-concious most of the time.  Gee, I wonder who's fault that is?  HMMMM?  It must be me, the person making crappy food choices and laying around watching television when I could be getting some healthy exercise.  And I'm not mad at anyone else but myself.  The problem is that nobody's gonna fix this for me and I don't like that one bit. 

All of this REALITY kind of pisses me off.  Like most Americans (or most people, I suspect), I just want to take a pill or push a button and instantly have toned thighs and a flat, hard tummy.  Better yet, I don't want to do anything at all and have all the good things in life.  That, my friends, is the laziness that keeps us fat, keeps us in shitty relationships or jobs, and really, keeps us from acheiving any of the things that we secretly dream about and wish for. It's all my fault and I know it. 

Some people would say, "Oh, but it's not - you've had some real setbacks and problems... your addictions have done this to you.... some of your childhood experiences were incredibly damaging... you're just a curvy body's not your fault, it's just your life circumstances..."  To this I say,  BULL. SHIT.  I may have things in my past and my present that deeply affect how I interact with the world around me and I may have a body that is more prone to storing fat than a bacon warehouse but that does not mean that I am free of responsibility for changing the things that keep me unhappy.  Just because you have challenges does not mean you should just sit back and say, "oh, well."  If something is making me unhappy, I have the power to change it.  I have the duty and responsibility to change it.  If don't make a decision and act on it, it's my own damned fault and I have no right at all to complain about the "bad hand" that life has supposedly dealt me. 

So I'm changing things around here.  But it is slow going.  I am deliberately taking it sloooooow because I have this bad  habit of doing too much, getting overwhelmed and then giving up.  Sound familiar?  Every time I get in a hurry and am pissed that I only lost 1 pound in a week, I have to ask myself, "What's the hurry?"  If I keep at this for a year, I'm still going to be further ahead than I am right now.  If I DON'T do this, a year from now I am going to regret it.  So, why not just go slow and be nice to myself, instead of the whole self-flagellation scene I described above?  Who needs it?  I'm going to be 43 on Monday and frankly, I am tired of beating myself up and really, just hating myself on a daily basis.  It's exhausting.  I don't want to feel like shit about myself anymore.  And so I work on it, bit by bit.

Last week, I took a bold step.  Now, I know women all over the world will understand this.  I actually exercised, in a class where men and women were present (skinny bitches, too, mind you), without wearing a long tee shirt or a sweatshirt tied over my ass to "hide" my butt.  You heard me right.  I wore tight black stretch pants and a tank top and THAT'S IT.  It was scary and I worried a little about people seeing my spare tire (it's more like a small baby bump, really) or my wide hips and flat butt.  Or my lumps of cellulite.  But I did it, because it is important for us to accept where we are and accept our bodies in progress.  If people don't like my junk, they can just look the other way.  They don't have to like it - but I do, because I live with it every day.  And suprisingly, several women told me I was looking good and asked if I had lost weight.  And at least two of them expressed envy over my substantial rack.  So it turned out fine, after all. Nobody made nasty comments or looked at me weird.  I felt free, somehow.  I guess I was free - free to be who I am and not feeling ashamed or like I should be hiding.

So liberate yourself - Stop with the negative self-bashing, appreciate what you DO have, and take that damned sweatshirt off that is tied around your waist.  That sweatshirt is like wearing a badge of shame - an apology to the world for not being perfect.  Fuck that - rip it off and refuse to hide yourself anymore.  Liberate your soul a little.  We are worth it.   

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You are one amazing chick!