Weight is one of those topics that women never like to talk about — well at least their number — but everyone can’t control themselves to discuss on a pretty constant basis: “Oh my gawwd, you look so tiny in that!” or “you are getting soooo thin!” (said in a semi-jealous tone!) or “Ugh, I feel so fat in this. I mean I look five months pregnant! Ugh.”
Been there, said that. It’s absurd. And it’s never really nice. {psst: if I ever said anything to you in half jealousy, I’m so sorry!}
I’ve addressed weight here in years past, and if you’re interested, even talked specifically about my number(s). I’m so over caring what my number is. It doesn’t define me in any way, except I suppose to the doctor. I love this image, below, that I saw on Instagram; these women are all the same weight and yet so utterly different.
At the end of the day, thin doesn’t equal beautiful and it doesn’t equal happy. It just equals a smaller clothing size. In fact I recall being most critical of myself and my body when I was at my thinnest; it became consuming.
This summer I’ve taken a new approach on body image and weight. My daughter is much more aware of bodies than last year. But not in thin or fat ways, just in ability to have fun. Shouldn’t we all measure our bodies this way? To lift her in the pool, to spin her around, to go down the waterside and to push her on the swings. And to do these things until my arms fall off! My focus is on being strong and healthy, the way it should be.
I’m someone who always will be aware of the number; the Weight Watcher lifetimer in me can’t control it but it doesn’t define me, and I give myself a huge cushion. I only really use one number (130 lbs, if we’re putting it out there) as a gauge that I’ve been indulging far too much. Food makes me happy!
When I reached that number a few months ago I took action in ways that I had been half-assing for way too long. I eliminated most processed food, all the crap, focused on whole foods, went on a higher protein and lower carb diet — all really helpful for my bloating and gastro issues, too. And, I started getting my tush to the gym three days a week. I’d love to take classes, particularly yoga, and even get there more often, but the small gym in my neighborhood is open when I need it, is two minutes away and I can watch HGTV at the same time, while having a few minutes to me. It’s amazing. I’d go daily if I could.
As a result, I feel strong. I see muscles in my arms and in my legs that I’m not sure have ever existed. It creates a conversation platform with my daughter to talk about working out, about sports and about eating healthy to get muscles that make you big and strong (as we demonstrate in our Popeye-esque muscle motion).
I’m making it a goal to not tell a friend “You look so thin in that!,” when implying she looks so pretty, and you should know I never let anyone get away with saying, “Ugh I look fat” or “I look gross,” when I give a real compliment — say thank you. I’m that bitchy friend that forces you just to say thank you. We can be so self deprecating when in fact, I think there’s power in saying I do look/feel beautiful. That yeah, I am thin, or yeah, I am curvy, and love it. Or that I have dimply thighs and, maybe I don’t love it, but I can be OK with it and hell, it’s not going to hold me back from fun.
PS: read this awesome post from Scary Mommy on a similar topic, if you haven’t already caught it Love.
