Had an interesting exchange with Melissa-Leigh of "never was a cornflake girl" on Twitter last night (NZ time). Some photos had been posted on Facebook of my participation in the Dove Pink Star Walk for Breast Cancer. I had been wearing a new jumper that I thought looked gorgeous only to see every single bump and lump show up in photos. The speed in which I detagged myself from photos stunned even SB - he knows how hard I'm working to get in shape and realised how much this upset me. I'm not one of those pleasantly plump girls who get a little round pot belly; I realise that those who are don't like it either. My excess stomach fat sits in rolls and you could see every single one in the photos.
As you can see, this made (and still makes) me upset. It makes me want to change the way I look. It makes me want to get on the treadmill and walk until I collapse. I love to power-walk - that and dance are the types of exercises I really enjoy. ML's tweet really made me think.
I'm not mad at my body - as such. There are parts I really love. I love having a big bosom and long legs. I love being an hourglass even though it makes pants impossible to find. The manicurist last week told me that I had beautiful hands. I can see these things in myself and appreciate them.
What I am mad at is how far I am from what I would class as my best "me". I can't even identify where exactly I fell off the rails. I was never what would be classed as "skinny" (well, at least any time after puberty) but I was fit, healthy and relatively streamlined up into my last year of school. In the years after that I battled illness (eventually diagnosed as PCOS and later as lactose intolerance) and depression - both of which could be partially blamed for my weight gain but other people have been through these experiences and either not blimped out or lost the weight.
If I'm being perfectly honest, at some point I think I just gave up on myself. I had too many other issues to deal with so I chose to ignore my weight. Was unsure my degree was what I wanted to do, ended up with a bigger commute in my first job than expected, felt underappreciated at my second job, relationship issues, loneliness, mum got cancer, uni was hard.... excuses and more excuses. Blaming the PCOS for being overweight. With a feeling of internal unworthiness I let my exterior reflect that.
Things changed last year when I met SB and when I completed my teacher training. Suddenly life felt right, I felt right. I guess that in the end, I ran out of excuses. I have a boyfriend who loves my curves but also wants me to be around forever and is concerned that if I don't get fit, I won't be. He doesn't care if I never get skinnier than what I am but he wants to be able to go hiking and bush-walking and it's hard for us to do that at the moment when I can only stick to easy, relatively flat tracks. I'm left feeling angry that I let myself get this fat and unfit - it doesn't show a lot of love and respect for my body.
Time to make changes people.
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step"