Have you seen this article?
Things I Miss About Being 300 Pounds
Weight and body image is a strange thing. I've often talked about how I never thought I was "that big" when I was close to 300 pounds. I always thought I was "ok"; heavier, but just ok in my body. My eyes saw me, but never really SAW me.
As I lost weight, strange things started happening. I didn't see myself as the thinner version that I apparently saw when I was almost 300 pounds. Strange? You bet. When I was big, I thought I was small. The smaller I got, the bigger I kept seeing myself. So when I say that body image screws you up - I mean it. And that's just the inward self body image.
Let's talk about the outward image that the public sees. The image that a new person sees and immediately judges you on. Because the little judgements we have with someone, are immediate and happen with everyone. No matter how much you say that you don't judge someone, you do. It's natural. You can choose to be better about it and work on it, but everyone judges.
The more weight that I lost, the more that people in public acknowleged that they saw me. Women would make comments in stores, either commiserating about something, asking for advice or giving me unsolicited positive advice. Men smiled at me more, opened doors and seemed to eyeball me. It was a really strange transition mentally. I was so used to being the wallpaper that I had a hard time being the chair that everyone wanted to talk about. But it gave me both a new confidence in myself to take more chances, be more comfortable with myself. It was a good thing, even though it made me so sad for the heavy me and living as an invisible person.
Fast forward to now. I'm 30 pounds heavier. I have hips again and a booty and it's driving me nuts. But the interesting thing is that I'm back to getting fewer comments from women, less doors opened by men and I feel all wallpaperish again. Damn. 30 pounds and I'm fading back into the wall. Strangers are fickle apparently. Very fickle. And my only recourse is to lose the weight again.
Showing posts with label body image. Show all posts
Showing posts with label body image. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Monday, December 16, 2013
I Love Myself
Deep down, I know that I love myself, just as I am. But the day to day me isn't always so sure.
After losing weight I was liking my body, but the good and the bad parts. But with the surgery scars and the weight gain, I feel the self doubt filling in those empty spots. My scar is long and red and raised. Ready? Be gentle with me, because this is the first time I'm publicly sharing some of my scars.
This is my abdomen scar. Where they took skin and tissue to rebuild the breasts. The scar runs from buttock around the front to the other buttock.
Why am I sharing this now? I watched some documentary where they talked about self doubt and hate. One of the things that a therapist said, what she would prescribe that patients go home and post on their bathroom mirror: I love myself unconditionally! Read it twice a day and say it out loud. She said that the first 20 days or so would be filled with self doubt, criticism and sometimes hate. But after day 20 those critical statements after the sentence would get less and less. After 30 days, they're down to very few.
So, I'm here to say that I love myself. I'm not perfect (no one is) and I have things that I can improve upon. I'll do those when my body and mind are ready to tackle them again. Until then, I'm choosing to give myself grace and be ok with where I am.
After losing weight I was liking my body, but the good and the bad parts. But with the surgery scars and the weight gain, I feel the self doubt filling in those empty spots. My scar is long and red and raised. Ready? Be gentle with me, because this is the first time I'm publicly sharing some of my scars.
This is my abdomen scar. Where they took skin and tissue to rebuild the breasts. The scar runs from buttock around the front to the other buttock.
Why am I sharing this now? I watched some documentary where they talked about self doubt and hate. One of the things that a therapist said, what she would prescribe that patients go home and post on their bathroom mirror: I love myself unconditionally! Read it twice a day and say it out loud. She said that the first 20 days or so would be filled with self doubt, criticism and sometimes hate. But after day 20 those critical statements after the sentence would get less and less. After 30 days, they're down to very few.
So, I'm here to say that I love myself. I'm not perfect (no one is) and I have things that I can improve upon. I'll do those when my body and mind are ready to tackle them again. Until then, I'm choosing to give myself grace and be ok with where I am.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
207; A List of Plans
Even water proof mascara isn't really water proof. It's likely water resistant or something. I always wonder what kind of make up reality stars have on that they never get red and raccoon looking when they cry. Because me? I do crying, ugly. I'm red, blotchy, runny nose and tears flowing. So my lesson to you all is not to wear mascara when going for help with depression.
I love my doctor. Can I just say that? She listens, really listens to me. She helps me problem solve. She also lets me lead in what my medical care should look like. She lets me feel in control, even when I'm not.
When she entered the office I half heartedly smiled and she could tell that something was wrong. She asked me to explain in my own words what was happening and it's then that I realized I should have written it down. Not only do I ugly cry, but when something like this is bothering me, I cry when I try to speak. And you can't ugly cry and verbalize at the same time. At least I can't. So she waited while I tried to gather myself up to talk. Then she listened.
At the crux of this is that I feel very much alone. I have the support of my Mom (breast cancer/mastectomy survivor). I have the support of Pete, who does tons of things for me and listens to everything I can manage to tell him. I have the support of friends online and in person. But I feel so alone. An island unto myself.
I feel almost as though I did all of this for no reason, this self mutilation of sorts, because there was no cancer. Which leads me to wonder if I was so ready for this to happen in the first place? Did I rush (is 3 months of waiting, rushing?) into this decision when I could have waited or should have waited? I feel as though my 'choice' to do this is 'rewarded' by the complications and issues that I've had since the initial surgery.
I've tried to seek out support form several places, but there is no one like me. No one that is a Previvor, but not BRCA positive. No one that has chosen to do this in a situation that mirrors mine. No one that is in their 40's and has some of the same experiences I did/do. No one who can tell me that yes, it will be ok. Yes, this is how I got through it. Yes, call/text/email me when you have issues and I will listen.
Logically I know that what I write here is off and that I know better. But I can't seem to connect the logicalness of it and my feelings about it. They're off course and I need to get them back on track.
So we have a plan. A good one.
1. I called for physical therapy again and I'm scheduled to start on 11/6/13. Exercising is a great mood booster and I can't wait to be able to learn how to exercise without hurting myself.
2. I was prescribed a low dose antidepressant for 6 months. Something to help me get over the hump and have enough energy to do what I need to do on a daily basis.
3. Seek counseling. If I can't find a support group, I need to find a counselor for a few sessions to figure out how to sort through the feelings I'm having.
I'm adding a few to the plan:
4. I'm going to connect more with Pete about how I'm feeling on a daily basis. Let him know my fears because he is strong enough to listen, even if he can't do anything about them.
5. Keep blogging. Keep getting it out of my head and onto the 'page'.
6. Keep being creative on a daily basis. Something that makes me happy - crochet, reading, photography, cooking...anything.
7. Let go right now of my weight issues. I'm not returning to the emotional/chocolate/soda/carb addict eating, but I'm going to say that it's ok if I'm not losing weight.
So, that's my list. I'm very much a list maker who has to have a plan. And this, this is my plan.
I love my doctor. Can I just say that? She listens, really listens to me. She helps me problem solve. She also lets me lead in what my medical care should look like. She lets me feel in control, even when I'm not.
When she entered the office I half heartedly smiled and she could tell that something was wrong. She asked me to explain in my own words what was happening and it's then that I realized I should have written it down. Not only do I ugly cry, but when something like this is bothering me, I cry when I try to speak. And you can't ugly cry and verbalize at the same time. At least I can't. So she waited while I tried to gather myself up to talk. Then she listened.
At the crux of this is that I feel very much alone. I have the support of my Mom (breast cancer/mastectomy survivor). I have the support of Pete, who does tons of things for me and listens to everything I can manage to tell him. I have the support of friends online and in person. But I feel so alone. An island unto myself.
I feel almost as though I did all of this for no reason, this self mutilation of sorts, because there was no cancer. Which leads me to wonder if I was so ready for this to happen in the first place? Did I rush (is 3 months of waiting, rushing?) into this decision when I could have waited or should have waited? I feel as though my 'choice' to do this is 'rewarded' by the complications and issues that I've had since the initial surgery.
I've tried to seek out support form several places, but there is no one like me. No one that is a Previvor, but not BRCA positive. No one that has chosen to do this in a situation that mirrors mine. No one that is in their 40's and has some of the same experiences I did/do. No one who can tell me that yes, it will be ok. Yes, this is how I got through it. Yes, call/text/email me when you have issues and I will listen.
Logically I know that what I write here is off and that I know better. But I can't seem to connect the logicalness of it and my feelings about it. They're off course and I need to get them back on track.
So we have a plan. A good one.
1. I called for physical therapy again and I'm scheduled to start on 11/6/13. Exercising is a great mood booster and I can't wait to be able to learn how to exercise without hurting myself.
2. I was prescribed a low dose antidepressant for 6 months. Something to help me get over the hump and have enough energy to do what I need to do on a daily basis.
3. Seek counseling. If I can't find a support group, I need to find a counselor for a few sessions to figure out how to sort through the feelings I'm having.
I'm adding a few to the plan:
4. I'm going to connect more with Pete about how I'm feeling on a daily basis. Let him know my fears because he is strong enough to listen, even if he can't do anything about them.
5. Keep blogging. Keep getting it out of my head and onto the 'page'.
6. Keep being creative on a daily basis. Something that makes me happy - crochet, reading, photography, cooking...anything.
7. Let go right now of my weight issues. I'm not returning to the emotional/chocolate/soda/carb addict eating, but I'm going to say that it's ok if I'm not losing weight.
So, that's my list. I'm very much a list maker who has to have a plan. And this, this is my plan.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
207; Admitting Defeat
If I'm nothing else here, I'm honest about what's going on in my life. I want to know a year from now that I got through this and how I did it. So I'm saring the darker side of me, recording it all here. I'm hopeful that I can come back to this and see how far I've come.
My plastic surgeon thinks that my left nipple will heal ok. He thinks that the healing that I see as problematic is normal and I just need to ride it out. If something does happen, he can create a new one. And with that I am at once relieved and angry. I'm angry that I lost part of it and that it's just ok. I'm relieved that I'm not losing more of it. This is not how I imagined recovery.
He also shot up the scar on my chest with cortisone. He says that he uses a tiny needle so it doesn't hurt. But damn, did that little needle hurt and the solution hurt going in. It feels like there is constant pressure on my sternum normally and with that it was very irritated.
I still have to keep all my scars covered with tape, a silicone pad or this Scar Guard product that I brush on. I make raised, red, unappealing scars. Just another notch in the bedpost of things that didn't go as planned with surgery.
Yesterday when I got home from the doctor's appointment I was mentally exhausted. I had a headache, my chest hurt and all I wanted to do was sleep. My insomnia has been rearing it's ugly head and I'm averaging about 3-4 hours a night. Even though my "office" is in the bedroom across the hall from mine, it was to far away yesterday. The thought of pushing the button to turn on the computer was more that I could physically do. The idea that I'd have to use my brain for something other than sleep and taking migraine meds was impossible. So I didn't.
When Pete got home, I had been laying in bed, sleeping off and on and taking migraine meds. He asked me how I was doing and paused. He finally asked if I thought that I was depressed. He says that I'm holding back with him and not telling him what's going through my head. It makes him feel like an outsider in my world. This is not my intention and I got angry. I believe that potentially, if I say all these things out loud they are true. And having them be true is scary. Very scary.
So I made an appointment with my doctor today about my insomnia, my migraines and to talk about the possibility that I am depressed. I admit defeat in this emotional battle of being a Previvor and having surgery. Defeat.
My plastic surgeon thinks that my left nipple will heal ok. He thinks that the healing that I see as problematic is normal and I just need to ride it out. If something does happen, he can create a new one. And with that I am at once relieved and angry. I'm angry that I lost part of it and that it's just ok. I'm relieved that I'm not losing more of it. This is not how I imagined recovery.
He also shot up the scar on my chest with cortisone. He says that he uses a tiny needle so it doesn't hurt. But damn, did that little needle hurt and the solution hurt going in. It feels like there is constant pressure on my sternum normally and with that it was very irritated.
I still have to keep all my scars covered with tape, a silicone pad or this Scar Guard product that I brush on. I make raised, red, unappealing scars. Just another notch in the bedpost of things that didn't go as planned with surgery.
Yesterday when I got home from the doctor's appointment I was mentally exhausted. I had a headache, my chest hurt and all I wanted to do was sleep. My insomnia has been rearing it's ugly head and I'm averaging about 3-4 hours a night. Even though my "office" is in the bedroom across the hall from mine, it was to far away yesterday. The thought of pushing the button to turn on the computer was more that I could physically do. The idea that I'd have to use my brain for something other than sleep and taking migraine meds was impossible. So I didn't.
When Pete got home, I had been laying in bed, sleeping off and on and taking migraine meds. He asked me how I was doing and paused. He finally asked if I thought that I was depressed. He says that I'm holding back with him and not telling him what's going through my head. It makes him feel like an outsider in my world. This is not my intention and I got angry. I believe that potentially, if I say all these things out loud they are true. And having them be true is scary. Very scary.
So I made an appointment with my doctor today about my insomnia, my migraines and to talk about the possibility that I am depressed. I admit defeat in this emotional battle of being a Previvor and having surgery. Defeat.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Confessional; Seeking Forgiveness
I feel like I should be in the confessional at church asking my priest for some sin that I've committed. My sin? Gaining weight back, after working so hard ot lose it.
I had to try on pants yesterday because I'm working at the office for a couple of days and yoga/jeans are not acceptable. None of them fit. I could get none of them over my ass. None.
It makes me so frustrated to see that I had come so far and now I'm headed back in the wrong direction. Call me Judgy McJudgerson, but when I used to read weight loss bloggers talk about a significant weight gain, I judged. They fell off the food wagon and couldn't get back on. I thought that I was immune to regaining my weight. I have the gastric band, I have a good relationship with food and with the gym, I have a supportive husband.
And I was so freaking proud of myself before surgery because although my gym going was sporadic, I had learned how to maintain my weight. No I wasn't losing, but I also wasn't gaining. I thought I had such a good, reformed relationship with food and how to eat to maintain weight.
And yet here I am, 6 months after this roller coaster of possible breast cancer and mastectomies and recovery and I am a good 15 pounds heavier than I was pre-surgery. My body shape has changed, both because of my weight gain and my surgery. None of my pants fit me, other than yoga pants. I don't feel good about myself and my body and I don't fucking know how to make it all better. I just want it all better. I want my body and life that I had before it was all mashed up with biopsies and surgery and sitting around.
If I confess all my sins to you, can I get back to that place? If I say 12 Hail Marys and study the food chart, will I be forgiven? Can I forgive myself? I'm frustrated and sad and I feel like I have no control over what is going on in my life!
And then it occurs to me that maybe that's why I'm eating. Maybe my food relationship isn't all that great and I'm eating because I can't control the rest of my life. But I can sure control that bag of Muddie Buddies Chex Mix going in my mouth. Maybe that's the lesson in all of this. I know putting that food in my mouth isn't making the control and emotions any better. I know this. It's not making the fact that I had both breasts removed and have fake boobs any better. It's certainly not making my post surgical body image any better. It's not making anything better. Maybe that's the lesson in this.
I need to continue to accept that I am a disorganized eater with a broken relationship with food. Instead of pushing the emotions away by trying to eat them, I need to recognize what I'm putting in my mouth at all times and why I'm eating it. Instead of eating my life, I need to talk it out or write it out or exercise it out, hell even scream it out into nothingness. But I can't continue to eat it.
Maybe there is a lesson in all of this. Maybe I can ask for forgiveness. But not from a priest, from myself. I need to forgive myself and it's ok to do that. My relationship with food will always be broken, but I have choices in how I deal with it. Maybe the lesson is forgiveness and choices and learning to allow myself to have these periods and chose to get myself out of them.
So I bought pants. And I hate them. I absolutely fucking hate them with a passion. They fit, they're nice pants, but I will always hate them because they are a size or 2 larger than what I was wearing before.
I had to try on pants yesterday because I'm working at the office for a couple of days and yoga/jeans are not acceptable. None of them fit. I could get none of them over my ass. None.
It makes me so frustrated to see that I had come so far and now I'm headed back in the wrong direction. Call me Judgy McJudgerson, but when I used to read weight loss bloggers talk about a significant weight gain, I judged. They fell off the food wagon and couldn't get back on. I thought that I was immune to regaining my weight. I have the gastric band, I have a good relationship with food and with the gym, I have a supportive husband.
And I was so freaking proud of myself before surgery because although my gym going was sporadic, I had learned how to maintain my weight. No I wasn't losing, but I also wasn't gaining. I thought I had such a good, reformed relationship with food and how to eat to maintain weight.
And yet here I am, 6 months after this roller coaster of possible breast cancer and mastectomies and recovery and I am a good 15 pounds heavier than I was pre-surgery. My body shape has changed, both because of my weight gain and my surgery. None of my pants fit me, other than yoga pants. I don't feel good about myself and my body and I don't fucking know how to make it all better. I just want it all better. I want my body and life that I had before it was all mashed up with biopsies and surgery and sitting around.
If I confess all my sins to you, can I get back to that place? If I say 12 Hail Marys and study the food chart, will I be forgiven? Can I forgive myself? I'm frustrated and sad and I feel like I have no control over what is going on in my life!
And then it occurs to me that maybe that's why I'm eating. Maybe my food relationship isn't all that great and I'm eating because I can't control the rest of my life. But I can sure control that bag of Muddie Buddies Chex Mix going in my mouth. Maybe that's the lesson in all of this. I know putting that food in my mouth isn't making the control and emotions any better. I know this. It's not making the fact that I had both breasts removed and have fake boobs any better. It's certainly not making my post surgical body image any better. It's not making anything better. Maybe that's the lesson in this.
I need to continue to accept that I am a disorganized eater with a broken relationship with food. Instead of pushing the emotions away by trying to eat them, I need to recognize what I'm putting in my mouth at all times and why I'm eating it. Instead of eating my life, I need to talk it out or write it out or exercise it out, hell even scream it out into nothingness. But I can't continue to eat it.
Maybe there is a lesson in all of this. Maybe I can ask for forgiveness. But not from a priest, from myself. I need to forgive myself and it's ok to do that. My relationship with food will always be broken, but I have choices in how I deal with it. Maybe the lesson is forgiveness and choices and learning to allow myself to have these periods and chose to get myself out of them.
So I bought pants. And I hate them. I absolutely fucking hate them with a passion. They fit, they're nice pants, but I will always hate them because they are a size or 2 larger than what I was wearing before.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
196; My Back To School Shopping
I went shopping yesterday. Kind of like back to school shopping. I used to love back to school shopping. All those new clothes and office supplies. Shiny and new and mine. It was my favorite part of the year! A few pieces of clothing that could be worn while I work from home, wear to the office and wear out when Pete and I go do things.
I think I spent 2 hours in Kohls pushing around the shopping cart and adding things. It was difficult, both physically and mentally. Physically I ended up going back to the carts and getting one with 4 wheels so I wasn't using so much effort to push that cart around. Mentally. Well mentally I was all over the place.
I feel like I disliked my body and the way it felt to be in it so I went on this long journey to lose weight. I lost almost 100 pounds and had this new body. It took me a while to get used to it. To learn the curves and the angles. To learn how to dress this new body. I finally become used to this body and my new life and again I have changes. I have this surgery that changes my waist, hips and abdomen.
So here I am again, trying to learn this body. I'm trying to learn the curves again. And once again I'm left wondering if the size that I'm at now will be the size that I remain? I'm in medium shirts for the most part; still the same shirt size. But pants? Boy this is gonna be a ride. At this point I still have to wear this binder while I'm awake. It's about 10 inches wide of elastic and Velcro. I wrap it around my waist and hips as tightly as I can and put clothes over it. It does add bulk.
I tried on 2 paid of pants; a khaki stretchy jean and blue jeans. The jeans I couldn't get zipped and they didn't come over my thighs all the way So I just put those back and bought a size up; size 16. For the other jeans, I fit into my 14. But at this point, it['s not pretty. The thighs are tight, but because of how the pants are made, the waist is snug (with the binder). I bought them and I'm going to keep them in the closet with the receipt to think about. The jeans that I bought? Well, when I got home they fit in the thighs nicely. But, they gap in the waist; my usual problem. So they are going back.
I feel somewhat like I am back in the same place as I was a year ago, frustrated with my new body and trying to figure it out. At times I want to give up and go back. At times I wish that I hadn't rocked the cart, so to speak. But logically I know that this is but a bump in my journey to get where I want to and I just need to keep moving forward.
I think I spent 2 hours in Kohls pushing around the shopping cart and adding things. It was difficult, both physically and mentally. Physically I ended up going back to the carts and getting one with 4 wheels so I wasn't using so much effort to push that cart around. Mentally. Well mentally I was all over the place.
I feel like I disliked my body and the way it felt to be in it so I went on this long journey to lose weight. I lost almost 100 pounds and had this new body. It took me a while to get used to it. To learn the curves and the angles. To learn how to dress this new body. I finally become used to this body and my new life and again I have changes. I have this surgery that changes my waist, hips and abdomen.
So here I am again, trying to learn this body. I'm trying to learn the curves again. And once again I'm left wondering if the size that I'm at now will be the size that I remain? I'm in medium shirts for the most part; still the same shirt size. But pants? Boy this is gonna be a ride. At this point I still have to wear this binder while I'm awake. It's about 10 inches wide of elastic and Velcro. I wrap it around my waist and hips as tightly as I can and put clothes over it. It does add bulk.
I tried on 2 paid of pants; a khaki stretchy jean and blue jeans. The jeans I couldn't get zipped and they didn't come over my thighs all the way So I just put those back and bought a size up; size 16. For the other jeans, I fit into my 14. But at this point, it['s not pretty. The thighs are tight, but because of how the pants are made, the waist is snug (with the binder). I bought them and I'm going to keep them in the closet with the receipt to think about. The jeans that I bought? Well, when I got home they fit in the thighs nicely. But, they gap in the waist; my usual problem. So they are going back.
I feel somewhat like I am back in the same place as I was a year ago, frustrated with my new body and trying to figure it out. At times I want to give up and go back. At times I wish that I hadn't rocked the cart, so to speak. But logically I know that this is but a bump in my journey to get where I want to and I just need to keep moving forward.
Friday, August 09, 2013
196.6; Friday Five, Photo Edition
Crochet: I have a nice pile of nubby cloths. I'm going to keep going to about 20 in various colors. Then I'm going to find some small bars of soap and give a cloth & soap as a little gift for Christmas.
My chair: They came to pick it up on Monday. It's definitely a bit more difficult. I can't sleep inn the chair that usually goes in our living room. The couch isn't comfortable. And I have issues sleep in bed still. But I'm making the best of it.
My new maxi dress: The first time I felt beautiful again after surgery.
Happy Friday!
Wednesday, August 07, 2013
197.4; Dear People Who've Noticed Me...
A friend of mine writes this blog: My Eclectic Mess. She's funny, sarcastic, but honest.
Last week she wrote this post:Dear Men Who Just Noticed Me Since I Lost Weight... Go read it. I'll wait here.
Did you read it? By the end of it were you saying, "Yes. Yes!" ?
I was. I've talked before about how it's weird to have men notice me now. How opening a door seems like so much more than just a door. Before it felt like men did it out of sympathy or because someone else was around. Now it happens much more frequently and I see them checking me out while they do it. I've talked about how strangers are nicer to me by offering advice in stores, both men and women. Before I could have stared at that shelf of light bulbs forever, now I have 3 staff and one customer giving me suggestions.
At times I want to yell to these people, "Why didn't you show me the same attention when I was overweight? I was still a consumer; still a PERSON." I mean, talk about screwing with not only your body image, but your head! It's as though the world is telling me that I'm a more interesting person, the thinner I get. And despite trying to ignore it, this is reinforced publicly about once a week.
It's frustrating. I'm still the same person I was when I was overweight. Mostly. The only thing that's changed, is that I force myself to engage these people now when they do this. Whereas before, I would have shied away, lowered my head and left as soon as possible.
When Beth posted her blog last week I posted this on Facebook:
The thing is, Pete loved me when I was overweight and I loved him likewise. Pete supported me while I lost weight, and I supported him likewise. Pete loves me and pays attention to me now that I'm skinny(er), and I do the same to him. I am thankful EVERYDAY that I found a man who loves me for me. Part of my vows to him included that he loved me for me as I am, not who I was or who I may become. He loves me for me, here and now.
I appreciate being noticed every once and a while. Let's be honest, it's sometimes a boost to your confidence to feel noticed. However, most times, I don't know how to handle these situations because I spent 30 years trying to be invisible and I have no practice at it. I leave the situation, a bit unsure of myself and how I handled it because I don't ant to encourage men; I love Pete and only Pete.
Have you noticed people treating you differently as you lost weight? How do you deal with it?
It's weigh in Wednesday! Go check out some new blogs for some new inspiration on your journey!
Last week she wrote this post:Dear Men Who Just Noticed Me Since I Lost Weight... Go read it. I'll wait here.
Did you read it? By the end of it were you saying, "Yes. Yes!" ?
I was. I've talked before about how it's weird to have men notice me now. How opening a door seems like so much more than just a door. Before it felt like men did it out of sympathy or because someone else was around. Now it happens much more frequently and I see them checking me out while they do it. I've talked about how strangers are nicer to me by offering advice in stores, both men and women. Before I could have stared at that shelf of light bulbs forever, now I have 3 staff and one customer giving me suggestions.
At times I want to yell to these people, "Why didn't you show me the same attention when I was overweight? I was still a consumer; still a PERSON." I mean, talk about screwing with not only your body image, but your head! It's as though the world is telling me that I'm a more interesting person, the thinner I get. And despite trying to ignore it, this is reinforced publicly about once a week.
It's frustrating. I'm still the same person I was when I was overweight. Mostly. The only thing that's changed, is that I force myself to engage these people now when they do this. Whereas before, I would have shied away, lowered my head and left as soon as possible.
When Beth posted her blog last week I posted this on Facebook:
I appreciate being noticed every once and a while. Let's be honest, it's sometimes a boost to your confidence to feel noticed. However, most times, I don't know how to handle these situations because I spent 30 years trying to be invisible and I have no practice at it. I leave the situation, a bit unsure of myself and how I handled it because I don't ant to encourage men; I love Pete and only Pete.
Have you noticed people treating you differently as you lost weight? How do you deal with it?
It's weigh in Wednesday! Go check out some new blogs for some new inspiration on your journey!
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Body Image
Body image is a strange thing. I mean, we're all so different. No two people alike. Well, I guess they are, if you're a twin or something. But the rest of the world? We are all different.
As little girls we grow up seeing out mothers and their shape and how they view their bodies. Are they thin or thick, tall or short, round or flat? Do they mention their frame and their shape? Do they just naturally live in their frame? Do they constantly diet? Or eat whatever and seem to make no mention? Our idea of body image is first instilled by those closest to us.
As a child I remember my Mom being...perfect. Not too tall, not too short, not big or thin. My Aunt was thin, but always dieting. I don't remember the particular diet, but I remember a constant conversation on dieting. The thing is, I remember wanting to be like my aunt. Mostly, only because she wasn't my Mom, and the grass is always greener on the other side.
I've said before, but I have a few particular memories about body image. I believe I was 11, the summer after 5th grade. I had been wearing a bra for about a year and started my period. My sister, our neighborhood friends and I were playing outside. We all had swimsuits on with some shorts and t shirts on over it. A neighbor was airing out his camper trailer and said we could hang out in it. We little girls giggled and talked and as we got hot, we took off our shirts and shorts. Only I wasn't "little". Even though I was 11 and about the same age as the other girls, I had developed hips and breasts and in my swimsuit I must have appeared more teen/woman, than child. The neighbor came in to make sure we were ok and mentioned me and my suit in some manner, but no one else. I was instantly embarrassed, aware of something being "wrong" and as he left, I put my shorts and shirt back on. I instantly felt different from the other girls and my first instinct was to attempt to blend back in and become invisible. This would shape my body image for years and years to come.
The one that I've talked about before was being with my aunt and a friend of hers in the yard. We were sitting on a blanket and the friend was asking about me. At the time I was about 12, tall for my age at 5'7" and thin. Her friend said something to the effect that it was awesome that I was so tall because I could gain weight and it wouldn't show because of my height. I was 12. And I think that's one of the interactions that would also shape my image for years to come.
My body image is horrible, I'll be the first to admit it. When I was gaining weight in college and afterwards, I remember thinking to myself "I'm not that bad." What does that even mean? That I'm fat, but it's ok? That I'm not really fat, just big boned/large? That I'm thin, but just different than other women? That I'm just average, but bigger? At this point, I don't even know. It seems silly and dumb when I think about it, but at the time it made sense.
I bit of me, a tiny voice in my head, is struggling again. And I have to say that even though this surgery and the flap procedure fit my life best, I almost changed my mind. Why? I was concerned about my body image. Only not what you would think; not about my breasts. I was/am concerned about my hips/butt. I have this incredibly flat tummy right now from surgery. I have these beautiful breasts that are in place and not saggy from weight loss. But my hips and tummy? They're still the same. Large.
It's a shame really. I go through this incredible weight loss than changes my life and my body. I start coming to grips with my body image and how it's changed, but livable and beautiful in it's own right. Then this new life changing thing happens. And again I have to figure out not only what my body image is, but how to successfully live with it. It's never ending, this body image thing.
Try this: What's your body look like to you?
Tell me, how close were you to your actual body shape? What's your body image?
As little girls we grow up seeing out mothers and their shape and how they view their bodies. Are they thin or thick, tall or short, round or flat? Do they mention their frame and their shape? Do they just naturally live in their frame? Do they constantly diet? Or eat whatever and seem to make no mention? Our idea of body image is first instilled by those closest to us.
As a child I remember my Mom being...perfect. Not too tall, not too short, not big or thin. My Aunt was thin, but always dieting. I don't remember the particular diet, but I remember a constant conversation on dieting. The thing is, I remember wanting to be like my aunt. Mostly, only because she wasn't my Mom, and the grass is always greener on the other side.
I've said before, but I have a few particular memories about body image. I believe I was 11, the summer after 5th grade. I had been wearing a bra for about a year and started my period. My sister, our neighborhood friends and I were playing outside. We all had swimsuits on with some shorts and t shirts on over it. A neighbor was airing out his camper trailer and said we could hang out in it. We little girls giggled and talked and as we got hot, we took off our shirts and shorts. Only I wasn't "little". Even though I was 11 and about the same age as the other girls, I had developed hips and breasts and in my swimsuit I must have appeared more teen/woman, than child. The neighbor came in to make sure we were ok and mentioned me and my suit in some manner, but no one else. I was instantly embarrassed, aware of something being "wrong" and as he left, I put my shorts and shirt back on. I instantly felt different from the other girls and my first instinct was to attempt to blend back in and become invisible. This would shape my body image for years and years to come.
The one that I've talked about before was being with my aunt and a friend of hers in the yard. We were sitting on a blanket and the friend was asking about me. At the time I was about 12, tall for my age at 5'7" and thin. Her friend said something to the effect that it was awesome that I was so tall because I could gain weight and it wouldn't show because of my height. I was 12. And I think that's one of the interactions that would also shape my image for years to come.
My body image is horrible, I'll be the first to admit it. When I was gaining weight in college and afterwards, I remember thinking to myself "I'm not that bad." What does that even mean? That I'm fat, but it's ok? That I'm not really fat, just big boned/large? That I'm thin, but just different than other women? That I'm just average, but bigger? At this point, I don't even know. It seems silly and dumb when I think about it, but at the time it made sense.
I bit of me, a tiny voice in my head, is struggling again. And I have to say that even though this surgery and the flap procedure fit my life best, I almost changed my mind. Why? I was concerned about my body image. Only not what you would think; not about my breasts. I was/am concerned about my hips/butt. I have this incredibly flat tummy right now from surgery. I have these beautiful breasts that are in place and not saggy from weight loss. But my hips and tummy? They're still the same. Large.
It's a shame really. I go through this incredible weight loss than changes my life and my body. I start coming to grips with my body image and how it's changed, but livable and beautiful in it's own right. Then this new life changing thing happens. And again I have to figure out not only what my body image is, but how to successfully live with it. It's never ending, this body image thing.
Try this: What's your body look like to you?
Tell me, how close were you to your actual body shape? What's your body image?
Thursday, March 28, 2013
191; Body Acceptance
I know I've been promising updates about my surgery and the last year and photos. While partly I've been waiting for a blog redesign, I think subconsciously I have been avoiding it because of some skin issues.
Yesterday afternoon I took a break from reviewing files and read the news. I found this quote:
I never understood tattoos until I met Pete. I mean I understand that you get them and live with them, but I didn't really get them. Shortly after we met, we were walking in a park talking and I asked him about his tattoos and then I asked if he regretted any of them. I'll never forget that he told me very quickly that he never regretted them. Even the ones that had lost some of the meaning. He explained that they told the story of his life, they made him remember just where he was and what he was doing and how he felt. I got it. I understand tattoos (for most people) are like the storyboard of their life. I'm not saying that there are some dumb tats from people who didn't think them out that are bad, but for those who really think about tats, they're the story.
It also lead me back to NieNie's Tuesday Post about the beauty of a woman. "A woman's skin tells her story. Where she's been. How she's lived. What she's accomplished." Nienie talks about her plane crash and shows the years of change that her new skin, mixed with her old skin does tell the story of her life. Not the life that she imagined, but her life none the less.
Yesterday as I read Margaret's quote and thought back to NieNie's post, I was first upset that they made Margaret cover her body up. Then I got to the end of Margaret's quote and thought, crap, that's me. I thought back to NieNie's post and realized that the two go hand in hand. I wondered why I couldn't see this before. Then I thought that maybe I had, but can't really accept it.
What am I rambling about? The story of my life, my storyboard. My body. Maybe mine isn't covered in tats. But I have scars and saggy skin and wrinkles. Some of the scars - like the dog bites on my face and my TMJ surgeries - I've learned to accept and to live with. I've learned they are part of me. I don't even think twice about them any longer because it's been so long that they are me.
The newer scars and saggy skin and lumps/bumps and wrinkles, they're harder to accept. But they tell my story too, my more recent story. Why am I ashamed of them? Why do they lead me to be less than happy about where I am? Why? partly because I ABUSED my body for long long by being overweight and not doing anything about it. So it's my "fault". Partly because it's not the picture I had in my head about what would happen when I lost weight - I thought I'd be "perfect". Partly because I haven't lost all the weight that I wanted to, yet.
But at the same time, how can I deny my journey thus far? How can I deny the hard work and the dedication and the changes that I've made? So I'm going to have a nice big 4/1/13 post ready that outlines my journey progress, complete with photos. It's my journey dammit and I'm claiming it.
Yesterday afternoon I took a break from reviewing files and read the news. I found this quote:
These were all women of various sizes and shapes and some, like me, bore the marks of a difficult life. My tattoos represent much of the pain and suffering I have endured. They are part of me, just like my scars, my fat, my eternal struggle with gravity. None of our bodies are 'perfect.'The quote is from Margaret Cho and it spoke to me. If you don't know who she is, she's a comic who's been heavy and lost weight. She's spoken out about not getting jobs in entertainment because of her weight and the mind games it led her to play. Margaret seems to have come to terms with her body, good, bad or otherwise.
I never understood tattoos until I met Pete. I mean I understand that you get them and live with them, but I didn't really get them. Shortly after we met, we were walking in a park talking and I asked him about his tattoos and then I asked if he regretted any of them. I'll never forget that he told me very quickly that he never regretted them. Even the ones that had lost some of the meaning. He explained that they told the story of his life, they made him remember just where he was and what he was doing and how he felt. I got it. I understand tattoos (for most people) are like the storyboard of their life. I'm not saying that there are some dumb tats from people who didn't think them out that are bad, but for those who really think about tats, they're the story.
It also lead me back to NieNie's Tuesday Post about the beauty of a woman. "A woman's skin tells her story. Where she's been. How she's lived. What she's accomplished." Nienie talks about her plane crash and shows the years of change that her new skin, mixed with her old skin does tell the story of her life. Not the life that she imagined, but her life none the less.
Yesterday as I read Margaret's quote and thought back to NieNie's post, I was first upset that they made Margaret cover her body up. Then I got to the end of Margaret's quote and thought, crap, that's me. I thought back to NieNie's post and realized that the two go hand in hand. I wondered why I couldn't see this before. Then I thought that maybe I had, but can't really accept it.
What am I rambling about? The story of my life, my storyboard. My body. Maybe mine isn't covered in tats. But I have scars and saggy skin and wrinkles. Some of the scars - like the dog bites on my face and my TMJ surgeries - I've learned to accept and to live with. I've learned they are part of me. I don't even think twice about them any longer because it's been so long that they are me.
The newer scars and saggy skin and lumps/bumps and wrinkles, they're harder to accept. But they tell my story too, my more recent story. Why am I ashamed of them? Why do they lead me to be less than happy about where I am? Why? partly because I ABUSED my body for long long by being overweight and not doing anything about it. So it's my "fault". Partly because it's not the picture I had in my head about what would happen when I lost weight - I thought I'd be "perfect". Partly because I haven't lost all the weight that I wanted to, yet.
But at the same time, how can I deny my journey thus far? How can I deny the hard work and the dedication and the changes that I've made? So I'm going to have a nice big 4/1/13 post ready that outlines my journey progress, complete with photos. It's my journey dammit and I'm claiming it.
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