Small children give us the gift of candor without respect to our feelings mainly because they don't know any different. If I were to say what he said to me to the average person on the street, however, I would most likely end up with a bloody nose. Still, I have been doubting myself all day. When did I give him the idea that it was okay to comment on my body shape? Do I imply that I'm overweight or was he simply noticing my lumpiness? His words felt like a slap in the face and I honestly didn't have the words to respond, so I kindly gave him his breakfast—homemade muffins that I am not "allowed" to eat—and departed for work.
My young male child(age 6) has never known what it is to carry a baby in his tummy, to experience stretch marks or labor pains. He has never felt the need to go on a diet because his clothes don't fit or endured the averted eyes of strangers in elevators. He only knows his mom has a flabby tummy and he does not. Therefore something is wrong with her. Why is it our basic human assumption to assess people on their physical appearance, as if any of us had a modicum of control over making our bodies? Beautiful or ugly, strong or weak, feeble minded or intelligent, we do not knit our cells together. We do not determine the number of fingers or toes or, for that matter, the color of our eyes. It does seem as though some of us take great pains to change our bodies because we are dissatisfied in some way with the beautiful gift we have been given, which begs the question, is bodily perfection attainable?
Yesterday I had the pleasure of speaking with a friend at a family function. I explained to her the exact moment I realized I would never be "skinny." I was three months into my journey, had lost about 40 pounds and was experiencing a plateau. I was at work and ended up walking behind a very cute girl in a short skirt. She was probably a size 4 and had long shapely legs. Her blond ponytail wagged as she walked and she was probably the envy of my male colleagues. I thought she was perfect and I wanted to look like her. After that encounter I remember walking to the bathroom and sobbing. I realized that no matter how much weight I lost, I would never be 20 years old or pre-pregnancy again(not that I was thin before my babies). I don't want to sound melodramatic, but I actually felt like my heart was being forced through a meat grinder. Why was I going through all the trouble to restrict all of my favorite foods when I would never look like her? Hindsight tells me it was a crisis I had to face to determine my future, but it was extremely painful to realize that sans extensive surgery, I would most likely never have a flat stomach.
Many people hang their health on this argument. They decide to accept their body as it is because they want to eat their favorite foods in the quantities they desire. They decide to stay heavy or unhealthy because life isn't worth living under a strict regimen of diet and exercise because they will never achieve physical perfection. Whatever the reason, they reject a "healthy lifestyle" and decide healthy people "suck." Or maybe that was just me. I only know that I wanted to quit and very nearly did.
I look back on that experience as a defining moment in my journey. I also remember the moment one of my friends approached me and asked what was wrong, and encouraged me to keep trying and not to give up. This dear friend reminded me that I was loved no matter what my body was shaped like. So like my gentle friend, I would like to share here a few things to remember as you take your own journey to better health.
A job worth doing is worth doing well. It seems simplistic to say this, but it feels true. I didn't cheat because I chose not to. I wanted to arrive at my destination honestly and stay there. I am sincerely proud of my accomplishments and I am reaping the benefits. To my great delight, I was able to roller skate with my son yesterday. If my only goal was quality time with my children, this journey was worth it. So what if I’m a lumpy cheese? I’m lumpy and proud of it! This lumpy cheese roller skated with her 50+ pound child on her back when he got too tired to walk.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Pretty people aren't necessarily happy people. I attend church with a "thin and pretty" woman who struggles with crippling depression and anxiety. Before I knew her I condemned her as one of those "perfect" people. She has a handsome husband and 2 gorgeous children. She is musically talented and has a great job. When I came to know her, I was indicted by her gracious spirit. She loved me in ways I never thought possible. She saw my pain and sickness, and offered ideas to help. She told me she would be a place of refuge should I ever reach a moment of despair, and then proved it by comforting me when I was there. My friendship with her and many others has revealed the sickness of my own troubled soul. If I have learned anything it is this, I am guilty of judging others through the lens of my flaws. When I look at others as having "arrived," I lie to myself. No one has "arrived," least of all me.
Bad habits are hard to break. I had to fight for my life to break a lifetime of bad habits. Some habits will forever haunt me because I cannot erase the memory of emotional crutches that comforted me. As a miserable teenager, I sought comfort in candy and books. Any time I read I feel the need to eat something sweet. I consider each battle won a positive step toward winning the war but I will always be at war with my body. Telling it no when it says yes. Pinching it in the buttocks when it insists on wussing out. Giving it the "Three Stooges eye-doink-of-death" when it won't stop craving cookie dough. The fantastic news is…
Good habits have power too. My husband and I have this on-going discussion about bacon. I used to eat a lot of bacon. BLT's, crispy bacon with waffles or pancakes, pizza with bacon. Seriously, who doesn't love bacon? I quit buying bacon early on in my journey for reasons that are obvious(it's very high in fat and sodium). After years of not buying it, I just don't think about it because I no longer crave it. For that reason, I forget to buy it. And bacon is one thing my sweetie cannot not live without.
Perfection is a myth. Okay, so maybe the title of this blog is misleading. I don't consider perfection as a living human being in the least bit attainable. But the good news is I'm not alone. This is what I should have said to my little one this morning. Does my wobbly tummy make you less likely to love me? Does a big belly make me love you less? As we traverse this journey of life, we all need to determine what is most important to us. If one hinges their quality of life on vanity, what will they feel like as they age and have to manage the person in the mirror? I have accepted the reality that if I am fortunate enough to live to old age, my body will stoop no matter how hard I try to stand tall. Gravity wins every time.
Practice Perfect Kindness. My son didn't mean to be insensitive. I know this because I asked him when I arrived home. "Why did you say I was fat?" He promised me that he never said that and I supposed its true. He had a quick glimpse of my belly and freaked out a little bit. Shoot, I do the same thing when I look in the mirror. I reminded him that we need to be careful with our words because they can hurt others. He said he was very sorry and gave me a hug.
I have learned many things on my journey through life, the least of which is that I will never have a perfect body. In the grand scheme of things that's probably a good thing. It keeps me humble. However, I am striving every day to perfect my heart.
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