Notes on a Supressed Memory
Saturday, March 30, 2013
I was cleaning the house yesterday afternoon and found a pile of pictures. They made me, for lack of a better word, sad. I should preface this with, like mirrors, I tend to avoid being in pictures or seeing them afterwards. You know when someone takes a picture and everyone runs to the camera to decide if they should retake it? I am not that person. My in-laws still use disposable cameras so when they finish a roll, they get them developed and share the doubles with everyone. My husband isn't too involved with this process; he flips through them and then whatever happens, happens. This is how I know that the pile of poorly kept photos I found are my own doing.
They're awful. They're from this past August and I don't think I ever really looked at them because they should have been a wake up call. Most of them are in the water, on the beach, and - naturally - in a bathing suit; a bathing suit I thought was figure flattering and hiding at least a little of my weight. I was very, very, VERY wrong. And it's disappointing because as I look at these photos I can see how I tried to mask my insecurities - turning to the side, hiding behind my kayak, holding my niece - but I never once thought, "I need to make a difference."
(I mean there was a point in my life, as a competitive swimmer, that I spent days in a bathing suit that was so tight you could see my abs and hip bones. There was no flexing required to see my muscles and too tight bathing suits were mandatory attire. And I looked good.)
I realize dwelling on the past doesn't allow you to move forward and so I am trying to shake these feelings, but right now I can't help but feel like my present accomplishments aren't good enough because I still look like that. I'm torn here - mentally I know the journey I have embarked on is a great change with tangible accomplishments and that I will, at the end, have developed the mental, emotional, and physical strength to learn from my lessons of apathy and self-deprecation - but at the same time it's hard to be proud when I feel momentarily ashamed. Breaking it down in a blog typically helps me revise my perspective, but I think this one is going to take a little while to digest.
I'm thinking about either destroying those pictures (a rebirth from fire sort of thing) or keeping them in a motivation/deterrent box, but right now I can't decide. All I know is I need them out of my living room, even if they are just in a pile. So now I keep telling myself that I've already grown from those pictures. This Tuesday will be three months exactly - the day I measure, weigh, and put it all in perspective, which is hopefully a healthy and realistic perspective. Maybe I'll even take a picture in that stupid bathing suit.