Yesterday I took off my shirt, left on my jeans and belt and stepped in front of the mirror half naked for the first time in a long time. Although I've come across quite a few women that haven't scarred, my incisions are a dark brown, darker than my skin. I can see them without my glasses. All of the places where my stomach was full and round have started to ripple where the fat is gone and skin is there. I stared at my grandmother's breasts when I was younger, thinking thank god that isn't me. My breasts are slack in their cups. My arms don't look like they have floaty devices on under my shirt, but if I hold my arms out I hear Bette Midler singing Wind Beneath My Wings. For some reason, I thought I'd feel different.
I thought I'd have loose skin, but not like this. I thought I might lose hair, but not this thin up top. I thought I'd go down clothing sizes, but not mismatched (shirt size down, waist down, buns and thighs and golden girdle stagnate). For some reason, I thought I'd be the person in the videos or online forums or tv and when I wasn't (which was yesterday) I was dreadfully sad.
I looked at my body and saw all of the same things that I saw before, if not worse. But what magnified it was having interactions with friends I hadn't seen in a long time. Specifically, old flames. To them I have done a drastic change, I am literally the same weight now that I was in high school, only the weight isn't focused in my midsection so I am more curvaceous. And it's a mixed bag of nuts when it comes to compliments or being asked out, because for some psycho crazy reason I find compliments or being asked out as an insult. Every week I go outside I am hit on. Before the surgery my male admires were as numbered as fruit stands in the middle of the salt flats. I literally say no to men (even if I find them attractive) out of some weird vindictive thing. Then I get home and eat Peanut Butter (then feel bad about eating peanut butter and then start counting the calories, breaking out a calculator and making sure I don't go over my fat for the day). Next thing I know, I'm at home watching Bridget Jones Diary, jealous that Bridget at least had a fling. Also kind of jealous because she could drink vodka without dying.
Then it dawned on me. I had reverted entirely to my old way of living. Being ashamed of my body, not exercising, not feeling like I was good enough for men, feeling sorry for myself, and getting stuck in a resentment for a life that has already gone by. Not focusing on the life that is still moving forward. So, I called my old male friend and we met up.
I know men shouldn't validate me...but men do validate me. And when he saw me and I saw him and he gave me that look, it made me feel a certain kind of way. And I told him everything, literally down to the wind beneath my wings, and he listened. And he said, "So."
And I was confused. I asked him so what.
He said, "So. Who cares?"
I thought that was awfully mean.
Then he added, "No one cares about what you see when you see yourself in the mirror. All that matters is what they see on the outside. I don't even mean just your body though. I mean, like, people can see what kind of person you are. You know the reason why I wanted to be your friend?"
I thought it was because I was funny and nerdy and he was too (which now he is hot).
He said he wanted to be my friend because he thought I was attractive but was too afraid to ask me out. So, he approached me as a friend. And he said what made him like me the most was how I was with other people. When he was around me, he said that everything else would disappear when I laughed. He said my voice was soft. The way I touched his arm all playful made him mush in the knees. He said he knew I was overweight, knew I was frumpy, but for some reason none of that bothered him because it didn't matter. He says attraction is attraction just as confidence is confidence. He says some people just have it and I have it, I just choose to ignore it because I listen to everyone else but myself (as I listened to him).
And I thought about it...I must've had confidence. Enough confidence to have half my stomach chopped off. I must've had enough confidence to take off my shirt and look in the mirror. I must've had confidence to know when to put the peanut butter down. I was confident enough to turn someone down, confident that I didn't need to be validated by a man (even though, I repeat, this is still a contradiction). I'm confident enough to learn to be more confident?
I just wanted to say confidence one more time. Such a confident word, that is.
I'm not perfect. I shouldn't strive to be imperfect. I should work towards being confident and not content. I'm still working on these things, you know.
Anyone else struggling?
Najah changed their profile photo
