Perceptions

So both of my blogging friends posted recently about body image. This is a common struggle among those of us who are losing weight, who have lost weight, who need to lose weight. Any person of size really. It's interesting how we view ourselves and how it compares to how the world views us. Add in childhood traumas and the differences can become even more pronounced. We learn on the playground that our faults define us. We're called names derived from what we percieve as our worst features. Four eyes. Metal mouth. Big-booty-Becca (okay, I was never called that, to my knowledge, but could well have been). We decide to listen to these negative ideas and stop looking at the good in ourselves.

This is something I suppose I will always struggle with. On a good day I can look at myself in the mirror, from the shoulders up, and think I look "cute" at best. I think I have a cute nose, I like my green eyes. I look, I think, like a friendly type of person. Not someone you'd want to date, but someone you'd be friends with. That is how I see myself, and only on a good day.
On a bad day I see splotchy skin, limp greasy hair that clumps funny and goes off in weird directions, thighs bigger in circumfrence than a healthy waist should be, and an ass that could crush Tokyo.

I suppose, in the same way our voices on tape will never sound the same or as pleasing to us as they sound to others, we will never be able to see ourselves as others do. It's not only difficult, but truly impossible to REALLY step outside yourself and view yourself objectively and with a new eye. We're too close to the situation to see it as it truly is. But, my hope is that someday we'll be able to at least accept that we have good features, that we're beautiful people.

I've also, as readers know, been trying to figure out the "why" of why I became overweight. And although, as I mentioned in a previous post, I am coming to accept that there may not be an "answer" I have been able to put my finger on a few "why's" regarding my self esteem issues. This became evident to me when reading my friend Amanda's blog (http://shrinkingamanda.blogspot.com/). In her latest post she mentions a dislike of her own hair. I hear this from all curly-headed girls. The frizz! The hair that goes everywhere! The work it takes to straighten every day! Now, I do give Amanda a bit of a pass on this one, as her hair is more in-between than truly curly. But, to me, it's one of my favorite things about her appearance. I love when she wears it in its natural state. She is always a gorgeous person, but with her curls? Her husband needs to watch out, because she's irresistable with her curls. But aaaanyway, the point here is: we hate what, as a child, made us feel "different". Whether it be hair that's frizzier than the other girls, being naturally bigger than other kids our age, developing sooner, being taller, being smaller, being anything other than perfectly average.

I remember as early as kindergarten times where I felt like a "freak" because of my size. Looking back now at pictures from that time, yes I am bigger than the other kids, but I am proportional. I have a little booty, sure, that's my shape. My thighs touch, sure, I have narrow hips and solid legs so of course they touch. My hair didn't do much but hang there, it's extemely fine and thin, but not straight enough to be considered straight or wavy enough to be considered wavy. But it's also the best feeling hair you'll ever touch, so soft and silky. I'm a full head or more taller than the other girls, and most of the boys. And THAT, I believe, is what really spawned many of my "issues" with self esteem.

I felt like a giant. I could pick up the other kids and toss them around like sacks of potatoes. I was always strong (I joke that I HAD to be, to get this giant body out of bed and off the couch. And that's partly true, though it now sounds rather self-deprecating). I was always the tallest girl. This is especially evident in one picture from swimteam. I was probably 9 years old, and well over 5 feet tall. I'm in the picture with three other girls my age, my relay team. And they barely come up to my shoulder. Two of them could stand side-by-side behind me and be completely hidden from view, they are that much smaller. Yes, these particular girls are naturally skinny people. I am naturally more solid. They don't have the muscle I have. They are built for speed, I am built for strength. I'm like an ox to their stallion.

And THAT is the problem. I am an ox. Oxen are great, they helped tame the prairies. They brought the pioneers west to find fortune and freedom. Oxen rock! But....dude, I'm a girl! I don't want to be a freaking OX! I want to be a tiny, petite little ballerina girl. I want to feel feminine! I want a boy to be able to pick me up and carry me over the threshhold when I get married some day. I want to be small enough to curl up in my husband's arms and feel protected.
I want what I can't have.

For some people this may just be all taken in stride. They may occasionally wish they looked different or were built different, but most days they would just live their life and accept the things they cannot change. For whatever reason this was not something I could do. And as someone predisposed to addiction and unable to deal with the blow to my self esteem brought on by not being "normal" (average) it sent me running for something to numb the pain. I am unable to let myself feel emotions, so I drown them in chocolate cake or whatever my vice of the day might be.

I have no real solution to this "problem", I simply find it interesting to explore when these feelings and thoughts started. This is definitely something I'll be exploring further. I doubt, now that the rest of the world caught up to my height and surpassed me, that anyone would see me as a "giant" any longer. I am no longer than child who towered over her relay team. 11 years of dance lessons have made me more graceful than the ox that I compare myself to. But my body is what it is. I am strong. That is what I need to focus on. I am built for strength. Not speed, not looks. I am built to move mountains. And I need to embrace what I am, and forget about what I wanted to be.

Free at last!

New year’s resolutions aren’t normally something I “believe” in. They don’t usually stick. And the people who invade gyms/weightwatcher meetings at the start of the year were always a nuisance, the lines were always long and everywhere was crowded. But this year I’ve actually made one that STUCK!

We’re now in February so I think I can confidently say that this particular resolution is for the long term. On December 31^st, 2011 I had my last donut. I won’t pretend it was my last donut EVER, but I am determined to go the entire year without a single donut. 366 days since this is a leap year.

I will admit, I am still tempted. I have to see donuts everywhere I go! Krispy Kreme has their stupid “Hot Now!” sign. The cafeteria here has a pile of donuts tempting me five mornings a week. They LOOK good. But I’ve been telling myself, they don’t make me FEEL good. They are not fuel. They are simply wasted calories, and I’m hungry again five minutes later after I have one (or two…or three).

The thought of a donut now isn’t nearly as appealing as it was a month ago. And that’s awesome! It really does get easier as time goes by.

So, on Friday I decided to go one step further. I am now giving up popcorn balls. The pretty colored marshmallow popcorn balls from Vick’s that they sell in the cafeteria here. They’re so tempting with their bright colors and cheap price tag. But, like the donuts, they do nothing for me. They are not “fuel” for my body. They are empty calories. And not just that, but they make my jaw hurt from all the chewing and chewing and chewing! So they don’t do anything for me, they HURT me, and they set me back in my weightloss. It should be a no brainer to get rid of them.

Unfortunately it’s not so easy. I have a serious popcorn ball addiction! They’re all I’ve thought about this afternoon. Luckily, the cafeteria just closed, so even if I decided to give in I could get one right now. So, this being the first really tempting day, I’ve made it through. I know it’ll get easier after this. This week will be hard. I’ll have hard times, hard days. But I can do it!

I have been popcorn ball free since February 4^th, 2012. On December 31^st, 2012 I will be 332 days popcorn ball free.

Perhaps in another month I’ll give up another vice. We’ll see!