I’m pre-op. I’ve lost 21 pounds in two months on the doctor requested 1100 calorie diet. I’ve been very happy with the weight I’ve lost and am looking forward to losing even more as time passes. It dawned on me today as I was getting dressed that my happiness really is tied to the scale. I was ecstatic that I finally fit back into my pretty size 18 jeans with the little jewel on the buttons. I know everyone says you aren’t supposed to tie your happiness to your weight or your body but you know what, I do, and I am okay with that. I am not comfortable with myself at this size. I don’t move right, I feel awkward, and I definitely don’t feel sexy. I think it comes down to the fact that I am ashamed that I have abused my body to this point and I’m just not happy with myself. I’m starting to think about it like this – Would you be proud of your house if you let it go and didn’t clean it for years and years? Would you let people come over and see that mess? Would you even want to live in it yourself? So how am I supposed to be proud of a body that I haven’t taken care of? How am I supposed to look in a mirror and be okay with the mess that I’ve created?
I know that this not a popular opinion or thought. I’ve read Health at Every Size, I’ve read the blogs, the Pinterest boards, the Facebook pages and even posts right here on the Vertical sleeve board about how you are supposed to love your body, no matter the size. And it is a great notion. I have tried to love my fat self but I really can’t. Hell, I even cut my hair short after reading a certain fat love blog that eschews that it is okay for fat women to have short hair (HUGE mistake for me). For me, there is no love for my poochy belly, for my inner thighs that are so fat I can’t keep my legs together, my multiple chins or even my stretch marks in my under arms. Some would say that I’ve just been brainwashed about ideal beauty. Maybe I have or maybe I’m just realistic that this isn’t really the way I want to live my life. Maybe I’m just really shallow. It’s entirely possible.
I know surgery and losing weight won’t make everything in my life better. I get that. What I do know is this, every time I see that scale number move in a downward direction, I feel like I am getting my life back. I know that I can walk and take stairs without getting winded. I can tie my shoe without having to hoist my leg up by my pant leg. I can wipe my behind properly again. I’ve actually felt like doing some housework and taking walks with my husband and dogs. These aren’t huge things to most folks, it’s not like a scaled a mountain, but they feel like huge things to me. So for now, I’m accepting that my happiness is tied to my scale.
