Distorted Images

I can actually remember the day I started worrying about being overweight. I was maybe in my early 20s, in college and working at my Aunt and Uncle’s restaurant. An old friend of mine was there having dinner and I stopped to say hello.

She hadn’t seen me since high school when I weighed somewhere between 118-120 pounds. At 5′8″, I know now that was way too thin.

What I remember about that reunion was how she responded to seeing me again. We had been great friends, but college and life had moved us away from each other. Her first words weren’t ‘great to see you,’ or ‘I’ve missed hanging out with you.’ No, they were ‘wow, you’ve gained some weight.’

Up to  that point, I hadn’t really considered that I had gained any weight. I was still thin, still fitting into my clothes. But, that night when I went home, one of the first things I did was step on the scale. I was shocked at how much I weighed, a whopping 130 pounds. In retrospect, that was a much healthier weight, but I was dumbfounded.

From that day ’til today, the scale has not been my friend.

Now, two kids and 30 pounds later, I’m still not what any of my friends or family consider fat, but I am not happy with my size.

I keep thinking back to my pre-baby, pre-marriage weight and wonder where that person went, and how do I get her back. My whole attitude about myself has changed. I no longer think of myself as attractive… I’m frumpy, doughy, slack… you name it, I’ve thought it.

If I make some self-deprecating statement about my weight, my family and friends react almost with anger and tell me I’m not big. I don’t see what they see apparently. I avoid mirrors and large windows. I constantly compare myself to other women I see.., ‘am I as big as her?’ I fret about what other people think about me, when in reality, they most likely don’t even notice me.

I see the rolls of back fat, I see the love handles pooching around my waistband, I see The Sisters straining across my shirt. I don’t see thin, I don’t see me. I don’t see that college coed that I once was.

What I have to get passed, is that I never will see that girl again. I’m not a girl any longer, I am a woman and have filled out, have grown up. My body has changed, because I’ve changed. I have to learn to like the person I see in the mirror, to see myself as other people see me… and stay away from the scale.

 

Thanks to Ashley at Boss Sanders for prompting this examination of self-image… check out what others are saying.