I hate knowing the difference of how a fat person is treated rather than a skinny one. Granted, even when I was skinny, I wasn't the standard definition of the word. 180 pounds of muscle, and way less fat than normal, was heaven to me. Never had I felt freer, more positive, and more attractive.
Maybe I was then. I don't know.
My husband would be mad if he saw this, and he probably will read this so...yeah.
Sorry, babe.
When I was 21 or 22 (my memory is failing in my ripe old age), I decided to change things a little bit. I'd always been a bit heavier, probably the biggest girl in my graduating class (of 32). I never wanted to be "that" girl--the one who stood out as someone who was--gasp--different, who everyone said had a perfect, God-fearing heart, which was her main and only characteristic. Granted, that sounds like I would be offended to be a sweet and/or good person, but I was tired of people only seeing that part of myself.
So what did I do?
I went to a bootcamp.
You know, the kind of bootcamp where everyone gets up at an obscene hour to work out with a bunch of other strangers.
It was heaven.
I actually won the first month free. If I hadn't done that, I probably never would have started going to begin with. There was a display at the Galleria that had the bootcamp's logo, and a jar of whistles. If you guessed the correct amount of whistles in the jar--FREE MONTH OF SWEATY FUN.
Awesome.
Apparently my geusstimation skills are not as great as just being the only person to sign up. I won, but by default, and I didn't realize this until much later in the boot camp process.
I hated it at first. I convinced one of my best friends, Emily, to do it with me. We both had weird hours at our jobs, so getting up super early wouldn't mess up our schedules. For a long time, it was just me and her in the camp, running laps around the ice skating rink, or in the parking garage outside of Old Navy.
Emily dropped the bootcamp because of time restraints, I think, and eventually I would too. But not before I found the power that I had been granted from doing 300 squats. Oh, no.
I had power.
I had power of myself, what I thought about myself, and, most importantly, food. I ate only what I needed, and when I did want to indulge, I did so only a little bit. No more fast food, Dr. Pepper, or gobs of potatoes. I was healthy and sought out adventure.
This was when I started dating. Yes, I was 22 when I started this. There are probably many factors, like being fat, or not brushing my hair, or liking anime, or being a good Christian girl, that kept me from dating or being "dateable". I was not ashamed of any of these things, until I realized that maybe it meant I was dorky or something. Couldn't I change? Why was I waiting for permission to date? Not that anyone was seriously asking, anyway. And why was I waiting? True Love Waits basically taught me to sit around, and God would place a dude in my lap.
Not hardly.
I ventured into the scary world of online dating, since I was terrible at talking to guys in real life. The computer is such a great buffer. I went on a couple of dates with WEIRDOS, then finally met someone who I thought was "the one". He was everything I wanted (i.e. into video games, a musician, had a job, cute, etc.). He also came with some other things that I didn't really dig that much (communist leanings, bipolar disorder, former weed addict, kind of easy). Yikes.
We only dated for about two and a half months, and I ended things. A good friend of mine, Leslie, weighed in on my relationship with this dude and said that he didn't sound like that great of a guy, and that God had someone better for me.
Oh. My. God.
That haunted me for awhile. I decided to end things with him, because it was getting complicated. He lived far away, and kept getting in trouble at work for really stupid things. He had a lot of issues, and while this isn't meant to air his dirty laundry, they greatly affected me and maybe still do to this day. I was sad that I broke up with him, but probably because I had finally felt wanted.
I spent the next two years feeling "wanted" and "appreciated" because I thought I had found strength in my new physique. Even when I gained weight, it was still not so bad. I knew I was somewhat attractive, and that was all that guys wanted, right? That made me a woman. Not my creative abilities, loving heart, or desire to change the world. Just the fact that I was no longer in a size 16 jeans and straightened my hair on a regular basis.
This cycle of initial appreciation->desperation->negative thoughts->self-hate->binge eating had taken its toll on me. Right before I met my husband, I had had a rough spring. I had dated a guy that was obese, like pushing morbidly, who got drunk and would make fun of me. It only happened twice, but that was enough to get me to leave. I actually met my husband a week or so after cutting off communications with A-Hole.
Life has been so beautiful since.
Maybe I was meant to wait for my husband after all.
Justin has helped me realize that, even though he appreciates my physical qualities, despite my gaining about 30 pounds since we first met, he loves me because of WHO I AM. This does not mean my jean size, my bra size, or my bank account. It means my heart, my personality, my ability to make him laugh. It has nothing to do with my physical appearance, though he thinks that it doesn't hurt anything. Maybe it doesn't, but I'm so tired of trying to fight myself on this issue.
The reason I wrote this is so that you, dear reader, will find solace in the fact you are not alone. I'm sure you know this, and have heard it before, but it is so true. There are millions of girls who abandon their core beliefs for someone or something they always thought they desired, only to have it bite them in the butt.
You are beautiful.
You are a fighter.
You are strong.
Your appearance only matters if you let it. Granted, don't wear sweats to work or never brush your teeth or eat Chicken Express everyday for the rest of your life. We are temples and need to treat ourselves that way. I've decided to again embark on a journey of taking care of myself. In light of everything that's going on with my family, I have to in order to survive. It's not a matter of choice anymore.
I need to finally love myself in order for others to love and appreciate me.
That means...
the bank teller,
the nail technician,
the sales woman at JC Penney.
If they can see that I'm comfortable in my own skin,
that I love myself,
that I take care of all my needs,
they will be attracted to me in the most positive sense.
Here's to new beginnings, and redefining worth.
Let's all try to be a bit kinder to ourselves.
-c
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