We all have thought it at one point or another. That nasty three letter word that no one wants to think about, but it pops into our head and comes out of our mouths more times than we probably care to admit, or at least that’s how it is in my case. The word we probably secretly use to describe our reflections in store windows, the question we ask ourselves when we try on a new pair of jeans, the word we think when we walk into a social settings and we start to compare ourselves to everyone around us.
Yup, you know what word I’m referring to, I’m talking about F A T.
We recently got family pictures, and per usual I spent weeks preparing, ordering dresses online to find the perfect one that was slimming and makes me look good (because as we all know you can’t plan everyone else’s outfits until your outfit is set in stone- Mama’s gotta look good y’all!). Everything came together last minute, which of course was stressful. Then the day of (which was a lot more chaotic than I had anticipated) I ran around like a crazy person mumbling to myself a checklist of what still needed to be done, placing my kids in front of cartoons to try to get them to be calm for just five minutes so I can clean their faces and curl hair, glancing out the window at the off-and-on rain and fighting back tears while reminding myself to “come what may and love it”, throwing things in bags and completely stressing myself out more than I probably needed to. (I mean seriously why are family pictures never just a casual, easy event…. Someone share the secrets with me.)
God was oh so good to me and parted the rain clouds (it started to sprinkle 10 minutes before we took pictures and then it started to rain as we were snapping our last few pictures) for us which gave us perfect lighting, the kids actually did great and got all into it (#OBoy was hammin’ it up, #ClaraBelle was just a doll smelling the flowers and twirling, and even #LivyLu welcomed a picture or two with a big toothy grin). The experience was actually the best we’ve ever had with a photographer and we all ended the night with plenty of happiness in the soul.
Our photographer told us she was going to be heading out of town for a week and a half and that it might take a few weeks to get the pictures back, no biggie, but she was sweet enough to send a few sneak peaks before she left.
My heart seriously melted when I saw the pictures, because they are just too good! But that warmth in my heart was gone in an instance when my eyes zoomed in on myself.
Thoughts like, “what has happened to me?” “I never planned on becoming like this”, “Golly I had no idea I looked so fat!”. And with those thoughts, all the excitement to see the rest of the pictures slipped away and I’m just left feeling downright awful about myself.
Let me tell you some history. I’ve never been a tiny petite person. I’m big boned, and I never quite burned off that baby fat. I have memories in elementary school of lining up after recess and these two girls who were behind me slapping my butt and laughing because it jiggled (I mean talk about humiliating and feeling like a complete loser). In high school I got into dance and Zumba, and then in college I taught 2 ½ years of Zumba (I was even head of the group fitness program on campus). Still I was never a “skinny” person, but I got to a place where I felt comfortable in my skin. When I was pregnant with #LivyLu I had a job that sometimes I would work 12+ hour days (not complaining I loved it!), so fitness and good eating was put on the back burner, then we moved states and the stress of being back school made it hard to find time (especially energy) to workout, and before I knew it I was at the end of my pregnancy and I had gained 80 lbs. With each of my pregnancies I have done much much better, but nonetheless I have gained weight with all three of my pregnancies and very little of it has come off.
I truly never thought I would be as heavy as I am today, and I definitely hoped with all three pregnancies that I would lose the weight, yet here I sit with all of it still here. The other day I was jean shopping and I was truly embarrassed when I walked into the dressing room. I wanted to just hide my face and hope no one was paying attention to the size marked on those jeans. It’s just all too easy to feel like I am the biggest person in every room I walk into and because of that kind of embarrassment, and assuming that their is judgement all too often I want to hide myself away (I feel like I relate to the mom on Hairspray way too much).
But here are the facts:
I am embarrassed about my weight and the way I view myself.
I cringe when I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror or in pictures on the wall.
I get self conscious walking around in public.
I hate to eat in public because the image of being the “fat girl” consuming food in front of others is just too embarrassing.
My lack in ability to be comfortable in my own skin is solely riding on the fact that I have deemed myself as “fat”.
But here is THE most important fact:
I have two BEAUTIFUL girls and one VERY HANDSOME little man, and I would just DIE if I ever saw them sucking in their stomachs in front of a mirror, skipping meals to slim down, or ever described themselves as fat (things I do on the daily).
Because of the society we live in, there are so many unspoken standards of what beauty looks like, what size is acceptable and how we “should” look. And while at the same time we promote loving all sizes and shapes, that it’s ok to be different, that it’s what is inside that counts; we are all still disappointed when our bodies don’t match the models in the magazines, the celebrities we follow on instagram, and, if you’re like me, you look at all the new mommies at church with already mostly flat stomachs and question why you still look like a beached manatee.
While I would love to be ten sizes smaller, lose a massive amount of weight, and not feel like I’m spilling over the chairs in Relief Society, I don’t want to teach my children that self love only comes when we have reached our ideal body size or image.
So now I'm standing in a hard place. I could hide my feelings while I work hard to reach my own fitness and weight goals, or I could work hard to love the body I was gifted by my Father in Heaven and then as I reach my fitness and weight goals continue to work on loving myself at all stages of this journey.
How do I do that? I guess it starts with allowing compliments to just feel good and not allow my mind to think anything different, like when my husband walks in the room and he stops what he is doing to say “I really like the way you look, you look beautiful” and when people stop me in the halls at church to tell me I look nice. Typically I don't take these comments seriously. I act nice on the outside but on the inside I’m totally listing all the reasons they are lying and discrediting that they might see something that I can't see.
Another good place to start is to talk to my Father in Heaven. When I was younger I was sitting in some kind of church class (Best of EFY or a Fireside or something) and the speaker was talking about struggling to feel beautiful. She said that whenever she thought those things she would look herself in the mirror and say “I was created by a PERFECT God, and He doesn’t make mistakes, so therefore I WAS MADE PERFECTLY.” If I truly want to understand why I am the way that I am and to see myself as a beautiful being, than what better way to come to believing that than to talk to the very being who created me.
I don’t know what our family pictures will look like, I’ve only seen two samples from that night. But I WILL print as many pictures as I can and hang them all over my home. I will look at those pictures every day and I guarantee I will struggle with destructive thoughts. But my goal is to one day, one month from now, one year from now, or fifty years from now when I am looking back through scrapbooks and come across them, that I feel a warmth rush over myself with joy as I look at my family. And when I zoom in on myself, I will be able to say “I love that woman”.
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