Today begins the first chapter in the book of “project fat ass”. Now, please do not misinterpret that title. It is a loving term. I have grown quite accustomed to my jiggly parts and wobbly bits, but my health is having none of it. In the past, losing weight was a competition for me. The skinniest girl gets the prize! But, the truth is I fought my weight for all the wrong reasons. The size of my jeans was once the assessment of my self-esteem. For years, my fluctuating weight was the very definition of “am I beautiful or not.” Yet, ironically, I was the first person to say “beauty is not defined by a dress size”, and I ecstatically spoke about the splendor of women in all shapes and sizes. Somehow, I was unable to see that beauty in myself. I look back and shudder when I think of my daily diatribe of “I am so fat.” Jeez…I was almost 30 pounds lighter for Peke sake!
This irony is not lost on me. I am now a chubby lady, but I am also the happiest I have ever been. I no longer look at myself in that way. That tormenting, judgmental, self loathing way. I feel accepted and loved. Round and sexy. Rubenesque if you will! But, when I get down to the core of it…. When I truly am honest about my current battle of the bulge, I realize that the weight symbolizes a whole lot more.
You see, these 30 pounds…these little bulges that cling to my body were once baby weight. The weight I lovingly packed on when i was pregnant, and continued to allow to stay on after I lost my baby. During my pregnancy, I gleefully packed on 30 pounds, feeling plump and beautiful. My extraordinary weight gain became a thing of humor (I called myself the clumsy walrus on a daily basis). For the first time in my life, the weight gain represented something wonderful. My wobbly bits and jiggly parts were bursting with mommy to be pride.
During the past two 1/2 years, I have looked at myself as I never had before. I had a choice to make; force my body back into shape, or forego my pride and allow myself to heal. I chose the latter. Now, I am still chubby, but I feel truly beautiful. My loveliness is now reinforced by the fact that I survived my daughters passing with as much grace as I could muster. I allowed myself to feel loved and sensual with my partner Mike, and not let my newly voluptuous body alter my confidence or disrupt our need for closeness. My courage, my heart, and my partner took precedence over the girth of my waist.
It was only once I finally established who I was on the inside, that I finally felt lovely, regardless of my shape. I found out that I am strong, resilient, capable, and able to move forward past a tragedy that could have dismantled me. My daughter Mia was a gift. She was the miracle that revealed to me what it truly means to have an inner grace that radiates to the people around you. She made me become a woman. A beautiful woman.
Now comes the next chapter. The one where I try to figure out this crazy thing called a “healthy lifestyle”. Because, to be truly strong I have to finally move forward. This time, when the weight comes off there will be a change, and not just the size of my shrinking pants. A great big emotional metamorphosis. The (hopefully) skinny mini me will be a reflection of someone who changed, and grown up. I am gonna keep the happy chubby girl in my soul. It is just my jiggly parts that have to go!
Let me hear your thoughts!