Even with the insanity of the past couple weeks, I lost two more pounds. At 37 lbs total, that is equal to my son's weight. It seems weird to think that, as recent as this past summer, I was hauling around a small child.
As I was typing the title for this blog post, it dawned on me that I have been sparking for more than three months. Usually by this point, the whole diet and exercise "thing" is getting old and I just want to be done with it. I definitely have had a mind shift in that I know that what I am doing isn't just for the short term. This is something I need to do for the rest of my life because that's what people do to take care of their bodies.
I've also been thinking about a conversation I had with my little guy some weeks back...
He had come up to me and announced, "You're fat!" and gave me a big grin.
I looked at him and said, "Is that a bad thing?"
He thought for a minute and responded, "Mmmm, no." Then he gave me a hug and kiss before racing off on his next adventure.
You know, I am proud of my son. I am glad that he does not judge people simply because of their outer appearance, and that is something that I will continue to foster (though I will have to work on his tact...)
To be sure, I am working on eating healthily and exercising regularly, and I know I need to be less fat than I am now. By the same token, there is no guarantee that this journey is going to make me thin. And I am OK with that, even if it means that others would be more judgmental than my son.
I have always been a solidly built girl. Muscular. Strong. As a very young child, I had boundless energy. My nickname was “Little Miss 500%” because I ran whenever I had somewhere to go. I always had someplace to go
I was never lithe, and that was just fine. Until it wasn’t, and my size became more important that what I was doing and could do. When my weight became the focus, I started to be more cautious about how I moved. I didn't want to take up too much space or be the center of attention. Less movement led to more eating and weight gain, and the cycle continued.
Part of this journey for me is about recapturing that little girl. I want to be able to run and jump and play like I did as a child (well, as much as any 40-something *can* do!) I don’t want to feel impeded by the labels that the external world would impose upon me.
Being fat doesn’t mean I am “bad” or “less than.” If, in all my efforts, I am deemed healthy by my doctor and I have the energy to keep up with my two very active kids, then that is great! But I don’t want to be pulled down because my clothing size or the number on the scale is bigger than what some in society would prefer. If I look only at those two measures to determine my worth, then I fear I would always fall short. And that is a sad thing.