I went to my 20 year high school reunion this weekend and had a couple of revelations.
1. I am very comfortable with myself and who I am.
2. People are just people. Yeah, I know that, but try applying that to the people you went to high school with. The prom queen that I was so intimidated by? Now she’s just as big as I am and struggling with the same issues. The football quarterback that I was afraid of? Now he’s the nicest guy in the world and a lot of fun to talk to. Chances are, he was probably the same back then but I was so focused on the rules of our various cliques that I never bothered to realize that they were all just…people.
It’s important to remember those revelations to explain my reaction or lack thereof, to the following picture.
Normally I’m the one taking the picture, or I’m posing with a group and my body is hidden. This time I was caught by surprise. First, let’s talk about my mental state all evening. Occasionally I would look at the other women, the ones that maintained their figures over the years, and I’d think wistfully about the extra 80 pounds I've been carrying around. It was a momentary thought and then I’d get caught up in talking with an old friend and forget about it. See, not a single person hugged me and said “Wow. You got fat.” I don’t think they were even thinking it, and if they were, so what? I am not defined by my weight. That’s right I said it and I’ll say it again.
I AM NOT DEFINED BY MY WEIGHT
Let's say I keep walking and running and strength training but never lose another pound? I have a loving husband and children; I have a good career and hobbies that really fulfill me. If my weight remained at 220 for the rest of my life, none of that will change. I repeat, NONE OF THAT WILL CHANGE. My family will love me and I will continue to work and play and enjoy life.
Will I stop walking? No. Will I stop playing with my children? No. Will I stop writing, designing jewellery, reading trashy romance novels, cursing the black berry vines that are slowly taking over my yard? No, no, no, and no.
That’s not to say I’m giving up the fight to lose the weight. I know I will feel better and my risk for certain diseases will drop. My body will certainly thank me for removing the burden it’s carrying.
Here’s another point that I need to remember. At the beginning of the year when I realized how close the reunion was, I set a goal for myself to lose 50 pounds by July. Certainly doable in theory—it was slightly less than 2 pounds a week—but my body had other ideas. Like the fact that it was starving and I felt like crap when I tried to lose that much each week. When I stopped fighting myself and started listening to my body, I felt a million times better and the weight started slowly coming off at about a half pound each week. I’m down 10 pounds and, sure it’s not dramatic, but I don’t feel abused either. Slow and steady.
This profile picture? Yeah, it’s slightly disturbing to me, but only in the sense that I didn’t really know that I looked like that from the side. Does it matter in the long run? Nope. My only regret is that it doesn’t show my shoes. They were fierce! In a room full of heels and sandals, I was the only one wearing Chuckie T’s. Rebel!