Recently, I met a woman with a very body positive vibe. It was early June, I had orchestrated a neighborhood scavenger hunt, and she showed up in workout wear with no "over" clothes like I would have worn. She was a pear shaped woman, likely 15 years younger than I and was absolutely loving being in her skin.
I wish I could say the same.
Sure, I have my positive moments. Usually it's when I look in the mirror after taking a shower and I have hair and makeup on. There are other moments, too, when I actually feel good about how I look. But this woman, there was no ambiguity about her self image.
Because of my aforementioned battle with sugar, my eating to fill a hole, and struggling with understanding that I don't have to keep up with anyone, I have issues. When I was in high school, I don't recall every feeling "fat" or even larger than I was supposed to. I do remember eating WAY too much junk food. Some of it directly tied to our living with a stranger. In college I put on the "freshman fifteen" like most of my female classmates. I struggled with it, trying to exercise it off but realistically speaking, I could not stick with an exercise regime to save my life.
The only summer of my college career that I went back home, my mother decided it was time for me to lose weight. We were living in Moulton and there was actually a Weight Watchers group somewhere nearby. So I counted everything and felt deprived: deprived of sugar, and carbohydrates, and attention that I actually wanted. My Mom thought she would be my coach, watching everything I did and ate, encouraging me to walk on dusty roads in the heat of summer. Once or twice she went with me and then she started to feel bad. I was supposed to "run home" and tell my dad who would come pick her up. This was likely July, middle of the day, on gravel roads. I don't run. I have never been a runner but Mom made out like she would die soon if I didn't so I tried, in the sun, on a gravel road that was an uphill trek to get home. I think I ran, then walked, then ran some more. Mom didn't die that summer but I thought I might.
Every once in a while, she would pat the back of my legs ----- the ones my brothers called "thunder thighs" ----- and say, "you don't need to eat that." By the end of summer I was down to an acceptable weight according to Weight Watchers. When I was driven back to college and I went grocery shopping. I distinctly remember being near the Albertson's dairy department when we were walking. Mom stopped and I went ahead. "What are you doing?" I asked. "I am just looking at how beautiful you are now that you have lost weight." Sigh.
Obviously I didn't stick with it. Who was I doing this for anyway? This isn't the kind of attention I wanted or needed. It's pretty hilarious that I look back on my college pictures and say, "Wow, look how skinny I was!" After the summer after my junior year, one of my residents (I was an RA) came to me to confess that she had an eating disorder. It was why she was always wearing sweaters. That blew me away; her family didn't pay attention to her.
After I graduated my mom informed me that my grandfather was giving me liposuction surgery.
What?
Rick and Carolyn had been given washer and dryer after they were married from my Grandpa. Matt was given a trip to Europe. What did I get? Liposuction that I didn't even know I needed. Mom was in control of Grandpa's money and she wanted everything to be fair. In my mind did washer + dryer = trip to Europe = Liposuction and 6 weeks of recovery seem fair? It still doesn't. LIPOSUCTION HAD NEVER EVEN CROSSED MY MIND and now Mom had me thinking Grandpa thought I was too fat.
Let me be crystal clear about a few things. My mother's mother was over 5'10" tall and not a small woman at all. My father was a large man. Even in his early days when he was courting my mom, he was not a scrawny guy. His own mother was a portly woman and his father died of a heart attack. My sons are both above average at 6'1"; they got that from me and my side of the genetics. One of the two is ectomorph and the other is an endomorph (I think) and honestly, I don't care so long as they are happy, healthy, and morally upright.
I still eat too much and too fast but now I know why. I can usually stop myself or at least slow down. Fullness is a rarity for me. It is truly better if I do intermittent fasting and wait to start eating around noon. Nowadays, I feel like open the mouth, open the flood gates. If I kept a food log, it might help but honestly I don't want to. I still remember writing everything down for WW. Enough.
No, may I have a serving of unconditional attention please? Let's serve it with a side of forgiveness.
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