*****I usually wouldn’t tell you this, but since i KNOW some of you are going to be so worried about me- please know that this is the middle, not the end of the story. There will be a part three and four in the coming weeks. But in order to be truly honest, I felt I needed to document the whole process, not just the super-happy-funland parts.*******
I mentioned last week that I got weighed in at significantly more than I expected.
I went through the following thought process:
- Dang. I didn’t see that comin’.
- I’m delusional.
- I have no concept of reality.
- I was feeling really good about how I looked.
- Maybe I gained 10 lbs. Yesterday.
- That’s dumb.
- I’m dumb.
- Maybe I just convinced myself. Maybe I wasn’t looking hard enough. And everyone was being kind.
- I guess I’m really not as pretty as I thought.
- Crap. What do I actually look like?
And instead of being rational, or Godly, I tried to be scientific. By which I mean I came home, put on the most “honest” clothes I could find (intentionally not flattering, but not so much “unflattering”) and took pictures.
And I tried to look at them, objectively. You know what I’m not good at? Lots of things, including HAVING AN OBJECTIVE OPINION OF MY BODY.
Daddy will always tell me I’m chubby and Lisa will always tell me I’m not and the Holy Spirit only every tells me it doesn’t matter, so I have NO IDEA what to think. And most days, my best recourse is just to NOT think about it, and to instead ask myself if I am a)healthy b) modest and c) comfortable. And if I am those things, that is what matters.
But that’s not what I was thinking this day. I looked at these pictures and thought, “Oh. Well. That explains a lot. I’m so silly for not realizing.”
I honestly don’t even know what I thought I should have realized. I mean….
One Hundred and Seventy. It just sounds like a lot. I felt like I SHOULD be ashamed to weigh so much. I SHOULD care more, be on a diet, exercise- specifically TO LOSE WEIGHT.
I asked my poor, sweet, then dumb-stricken neighbrother “I PROMISE this is not a trick question: How much do I look like I weigh?”
After much convincing he said, “155.”
“Are you shooting under for safety?”
“I was going to say 140.”
And I told them. 170.
Which, if you look it up, for my height, is clinically obese.
Now, having had disordered eating for so long, I knew there was only so much of this thinking I could take, I needed to reign things in quickly.
I was fighting thoughts like:
- I KNEW it. I can’t actually look good.
- No wonder he never told me I was pretty.
- Why did people lie to me and tell me I looked good?
- How terrible did I look before?
And it’s ugly but it’s honest: I CARED with all that is in me that I was “fat.” I was SCARED with all that is in me for what that means. For those moments. I was totally bought into the numerical evaluation of my worth…..
More next week.