Big Beautiful Dreamer
ridiculously contented
Husband and Offsprings and I went to my parents' the day after Thanksgiving for a visit, and Dad took some pictures with his digital cam while we were there. As always, I was dismayed when I looked at the results. How I see myself is one thing, but how I appear to the world is a whole other skill set.
I'm 39 years old, 5 foot 1 or so, and 187 pounds. I've always had front-and-back curves as if my hips and chest were designed for a taller model. As a result, I tend to look squashed down, as though someone had put a hand on my play-doh head and pressed, squashing me downward and outward.
For years and years, I hated my weight, lost weight several times but could never keep it off, and felt guilty about every bite I put in my mouth. For my 39th birthday, I gave myself the gift of size acceptance -- or I tried to. I don't officially "diet" anymore but still dream of magically awakening 50 pounds lighter.
Meanwhile, I assume that on meeting me, people automatically do a mental classification that identifies me as a fatty. That is, when you think of, say, your friend Shelley, you think, short, blond hair, glasses, plaid shirts. An image comes to mind. And I assume that when people think of me, they think, short, fat. I know very well they also probably think: terrific laugh, compassionate heart, calm presence. But "fat" is always in the picture -- I'm assuming -- and is always what people think of when they see me or think of me.
I'm having a very hard time getting past that. I feel sort of split -- in a way, I AM past it, but in a way also feel that I will never be past it.
The Dimensions Board and the story forum are havens. If you have any thoughts on this post, I would welcome them.:blush:
I'm 39 years old, 5 foot 1 or so, and 187 pounds. I've always had front-and-back curves as if my hips and chest were designed for a taller model. As a result, I tend to look squashed down, as though someone had put a hand on my play-doh head and pressed, squashing me downward and outward.
For years and years, I hated my weight, lost weight several times but could never keep it off, and felt guilty about every bite I put in my mouth. For my 39th birthday, I gave myself the gift of size acceptance -- or I tried to. I don't officially "diet" anymore but still dream of magically awakening 50 pounds lighter.
Meanwhile, I assume that on meeting me, people automatically do a mental classification that identifies me as a fatty. That is, when you think of, say, your friend Shelley, you think, short, blond hair, glasses, plaid shirts. An image comes to mind. And I assume that when people think of me, they think, short, fat. I know very well they also probably think: terrific laugh, compassionate heart, calm presence. But "fat" is always in the picture -- I'm assuming -- and is always what people think of when they see me or think of me.
I'm having a very hard time getting past that. I feel sort of split -- in a way, I AM past it, but in a way also feel that I will never be past it.
The Dimensions Board and the story forum are havens. If you have any thoughts on this post, I would welcome them.:blush:
