Yes, it's still technically Monday. But I have some weight related things I need to talk about right now, and I didn't think you all would mind. I'd like to say that I was better this week. If anything, I might have been a little worse. But don't lose faith in me yet. I go back to work starting Thursday, and that tends to help me get my stuff under control. At least I'm hoping it will. I will also be registering to go back to the gym this week. But it's back to being melt-your-face-off hot outside, so I wouldn't expect to see me walking in the neighborhood for a while yet. Baby steps, people, baby steps.
But what I would like to talk about in this week's Fat Tuesday post is perception and body image. I have never really had a lot of issues with my body, believe it or not. I like myself no matter my weight and I like to dress cute and have nice clothes, no matter what size is attached. (And I have a closet full of different sizes to prove it.) I want to lose weight for health reasons, not because it's somehow connected to my self-worth or identity. What bothers me is when people treat me like I should be ashamed of what I look like. I've had someone do that to me recently. Not in a blatant way, because they would never operate like that, but it was very obvious how they felt about the situation and what they thought I should be doing about it.
Two years ago, I was the smallest I can remember being in my adult life. I liked how I looked, no doubt. But I am also pretty sure that the medicine that I took to achieve that caused the depression that almost cost me everything. And I can tell you that no amount of weight loss would make me want to relive all of that. It's been a hard road, and yes, all that weight I lost came back. No, I'm not happy about it, and yes, I want to do better, but the last thing you are going to catch me feeling is shame. I am who I am, and you can love me or not. That's your decision. But if your love is going to fluctuate on the basis of my pant size, then I am going to suggest right now that you exit stage right (or left, or out into the orchestra pit...your choice). I don't need anyone in my life who feels that way, because that isn't friendship or love or anything of the sort. Or at least not anything I plan on being a part of.
In a few short weeks now, I will be turning 29. That gives me one year until the big 3-0, an age which doesn't scare me because I can count too many people I've known who never got to see it. And if God's willing to let me hang out here for another 365, when I turn 30, I'm going to throw myself one heck of a party. (I love having the excuse for a big event!) And yes, my goal is to look fabulous for that party, and I know that I will no matter my weight. The other goal I have this year is to spend time on the people who really matter, the people who love me for who I am (crazy, hormonal swings and all). I've decided that life's too precious to waste on people who don't take you for exactly who you are. I'm lucky to have some of those awesome people in my life, and I am thankful for them a little more each day. Those of you who find yourself on the other side of the line, consider yourselves on notice. And if you don't like it, you can kiss my currently ample rear end.