A few months ago, I did my morning routine of stepping on the scale to check my weight. It is a habit I have tried to let go of, but like the Diet Coke it still is something I can't seem to let go of. This day was not unlike all the ones before, The 000 flashed a few times as I anxiously awaited only to display a number that was larger than the day before EVEN though I had been so good that day. I know what you are thinking. Weighing yourself everyday is stupid because your weight can fluctuate several pounds each day. I know, I know. But for some silly reason it has become a habit. I am so fearful that if I don't get on that scale everyday I will not have a "check" about my eating. Before I know it I could be bed ridden eating loaves of bread and pounds of bacon a day unable to walk. I would be on some show where a teary Richard Simmons would show up and cry with me and promise me to get some help. God bless that man for the work he does with the fatties. I know he gets it having been there himself. But, if I had him in my room begging me to let him help me I would only agree if he would promise me to get rid of those dreadful shorts he wears. He would have to promise, no satin, no stripes and not so short that I fear his giblets are going to play peak a boo while he is doing a pelvic thrust to tighten his "tush". But of course his "parts" are probably neatly and tightly tucked in those pantyhose he wears.
Hey, I love me some Richard, so don't think I am hating on him. We all have our stuff. His just happens to be on the verge of falling out his satin shorts. I can remember buying a Richard Simmons workout RECORD. Yes, I am not lying it was a record that played on a turntable and shouted out the next exercise. You had to learn the moves by looking at the guidebook that demonstrated them. It also had cheesy songs he sang if I remember right about it not being about potato chips or something. This is before I graduated and moved on to Jane Fonda with her "Complete" workout that had this chubby stumbling around my parents living room in an attempt to learn aerobics. That thing was 70 minutes long. Hey, it served its purpose, I may still be fat but to this day I can nail a grapevine!!!(that is an aerobic move in case you didn't know)
Back to the scale that day. I stepped off and of course the nasty thoughts came into my head. I don't need to tell you what they are but basically I convince myself I will be fat forever and I should just give up. BUT, what was different this day was the fact that I had this thought, "would I EVER speak to a friend or family member who was trying to lose weight the way I speak to myself?" OF COURSE NOT. If my sister called me and said she was up a few lbs I would never say, "You are never going to lose it you know?" "I mean why don't you just give up?" If a good friend called me depressed and said she got pictures back from a family function and felt horrible about herself what would I say? "Yep, you look really fat in that outfit." "Every picture of you looks like the "before" pictures on The Biggest Loser."
As Oprah would call it, I had a light bulb or aha moment right there. Why are we so hard on ourselves? I know we see every flaw. I often hear we need to be happy with our bodies. And every time I think "easy for you to say you are not morbidly obese." But I also had this thought, regardless of what my body may look like, it has served me well. It has allowed me to have two babies, it is still allowing me to walk around and move and experience life. That alone is a miracle with all the crap I've done to it, all the wrong foods I have put in it. All the chemicals I have put on it. That alone should have killed me. I mean with all the products and makeup and smelly lotions I have put on myself, I am practically a walking science project.
So, that is where I am. Can I put on a bathing suit and run down the beach without a cover up? NOPE. Can I put on a bathing suit and look in the mirror and be happy with what I see? NOPE. Do I look at the number on the scale and think, "I can live with that"? NOPE. But I am all I have. I've only been given one body and I refuse to spend the rest of my days hating it. Because it is amazing. Maybe not by Cosmopolitan standards, but still amazing.