When I took this picture
of myself a couple of weeks ago wearing my first pair of exercise clothes I was
surprised that I actually liked the picture. I really felt like I had gained
some positive ground when it came to self/body acceptance. For those that know
me, you know I don't normally like any photos that I am in, which is I am sure why I love to be behind the camera. My only contrary reaction to the
picture had nothing to do with me, it was when I realized I should have cleaned
the mirror before taking my picture. In fact, I was amazed at how good I felt
being in my first pair of exercise clothes, even though it took me a year to
put on the clothes.
It wasn't until last year
when I read Lucille Zimmerman's Book Renewed:
Finding Your Inner Happy in an Overwhelmed World that I considered
exercise a form of self-love. Except for swimming, I always considered most
exercise as punishment for being plus-size. I think somewhere in my mind, I
thought that thin people didn't have to exercise, that they were just born with
skinny genes, that enabled them to wear skinny jeans. But as I read Lucille's
words, I realized that I had missed something wonderful, exercise could be a
form of self-love. And moving out East, I realized very quickly that I was
going to have to love me, for the masses tended to disapprove with their eyes of judgment
and silence laced with disdain. I would not find shelter in the world, but rather I would create it from within. In many ways, it was one of the best things that has ever
happened to me, for it has forced me to look within. Once I realized what a gift I was given, it
has changed my perspective. I feel like one who is caught in the headlights of
discrimination on a regular basis, I tend to shy away from the throes of the
public when I can.
As a Christian woman, I have
focused more on the "inward man", or woman, rather than the outer.
But moving to New York City has changed how I see myself, and I see on a much
larger scale how society sees obese people, and it isn't very pretty.
Coming to terms with my
body has been like living in a civil war all my life. I really don't know what
it is like to have peace with my outer-shell, and to be completely honest, I
haven't been at peace with my inner self for that long. As I have worked on
accepting myself inwardly I have enjoyed a sense of freedom that I have not
found at any other time in my life. It has been nice living with myself and not
sending negative thoughts or words shaped in the form of barbed arrows designed
to do the most damage.
Peaceful living is not an
overrated way to live, it is a blessed way to live. However, a skirmish breaks
out every now and then, when I start to doubt myself or get down on myself
about a character flaw or, my health. Today was an accumulation of hearing
disconcerting news from my doctor, inward turmoil, physical restraints, and
society's assumptions channeled through stares of disgust and shock.
If I could give you a
picture of how I felt it would be like Jack Black playing Gulliver in Gulliver's
Travels where he is tied down by all these "little things," however,
all those tiny strings actually held him down. As I awoke this morning with my
head in a fog and all my joints hurting, I had a feeling I was going to have a
bad physical day. So I grabbed the heating pad along with my coffee hoping that
the two might clear my head and ease my back by clipping those little strings. Before
I could do much my doctor called me. I knew things weren't right if she was
calling me on a Saturday morning. But I already knew things weren't right as I
slept more and more each day. I was getting depressed by how much fatigue and
pain I had been experiencing and wondered if I was ever going to recover from
my surgery. She stated that my thyroid levels were way off. When I explained to
her that I was walking on my treadmill consistently, doing yoga, increasing my
water every day and none of it seemed to be helping. She said, “Not to be too hard
on myself, for I can't fix this, only when my levels balance will it start to
work.”
I was not very happy with that response, for I
have read online about people who gained thirty pounds while trying to regulate
their thyroid. I don't have the capacity to carry thirty more pounds on my
frame. So, I am heading to the endocrinologist on Monday and wait in standby
mode while he tries to fit me in. I have to confess, I am not looking forward
to stepping on the scales, even though I know I have been faithful in my
lifestyle changes in the last two months.
I keep reminding myself,
that I have grace and that these changes are not solely about losing weight,
but getting healthy.
But what happens when you
don't even feel healthy at all?
After a short nap, Chuck
and I went to Walmart to get groceries and to search for a mat to go under my
treadmill since the neighbors have been pounding on the ceiling each time I
used it. My back had
seized up while shopping which was causing other physical reactions that were
unpleasant in public. At that moment all I wanted to do was go and hide. I try
to do my best to not allow the judgmental looks to get me down when I am out in
public, I realized why I was getting so many
today. With my head down I somehow made it out of Walmart and to the car where
Chuck was putting in groceries.
As we drove away
realizing we were going to be late picking up Jonathan from work, the tears
just started to flow. I just felt so overwhelmed by all my health issues and it
didn't seem to matter how much I was working on them. Being out in public caused
anxiety and stress which only heightened the pain I was feeling in my back and
feet. Even after we picked up Jonathan I couldn't turn off the tears. I was mad
and frustrated that all my hard work, my diligence, healthy choices didn't show
results.
When people look at me
they only saw a morbidly obese woman that they judged to be (you can fill in
the blank). Today I wanted to hold up a sign that said, "Hey! I am working
on this body, I know right now it doesn't show. I know presently I can't post
that I lost 5lbs, or even 1lb for that matter, but it has to do with the regulation
of my thyroid and all of the domino effects it was taking on the rest of my
body. But of course, I couldn’t and tried to swallow all my pain.
By the time we arrived
home, I was spent, both emotionally and physically. All I wanted to do was go
to sleep. But like the good men that I have, they went right into the bedroom
and set up the mat under my treadmill so that I could use it without
bothering the neighbors below. When they finished, I
went into the bedroom, put on my exercise clothes, and hopped on the treadmill
and started walking. With Adele singing soulfully in my ears I increased my
pace and as I did the tears started to mingle with the sweat. As my breath
increased sobs started to escape. I hate to sob which means crying out loud,
but these sobs rose up defiantly, just as I chose to stay on the treadmill even
though my feet and back screamed for mercy.
It is a strange thing to
cry and exercise at the same time, so much energy leaving your body at one time.
But I prayed that I would have the strength and fortitude to stay the course
and finish my time on the treadmill, and I did.
And a strange thing
happened-peace and calm had returned.
At that moment I
realized that putting on those cute exercise clothes was really only the start
of self-care and self-love at a different level. The test really came when the
outside judgments of others and the inward fears and anxieties about my health
and future tried to overwhelm me which didn't work today. I saw how love
conquers all.
Tonight I am stronger and
braver, for I chose the path of love over the path of judgment and disdain,
whether that was through the eyes of society or through my own. I don't have
the physical proof right now, but I am starting to see that maybe in some ways the
delay is purposeful. For in times past when I have tried to lose weight it was
always about the number on the scale. All of my choices in diet or in exercise
were based on that number moving down or up. I believe that I am breaking the chains
that have held me down when it comes to self-care and I am choosing to take
care of myself because I love me, and because I know that God loves me. If I
have to go through the rest of my life never seeing that magic number appear on
the scale, I am going to accept me and love me and still choose to take care of
me by making healthy choices in diet and in exercise.
This is why I am posting
a before picture where I am smiling to demonstrate that there can be joy in the journey and not strictly based on the number from the scale.
