What a scary scale. Please never buy me one of these.

This was my status on Facebook this evening: " Day 1 of sugar/simple carb detox. I feel like poop. My body hates me, but it will thank me in the long run. That is all."

Yep, I'm doing a sugar cleanse. And people probably think I'm nuts. But I'm hoping this will do my body some good - and maybe take off a few pounds, too.


I have pretty good self-esteem for a fat chick. Actually, I think I have pretty good self-esteem for any chick.  This has taken a tremendous amount of work on my part to talk my psyche down from the ledge on a daily basis as it's continuously bombarded by messages telling me I shouldn't like myself very much at all.

Nothing bothers me more than when a woman is down on herself for not looking like an airbrushed, boobatronic supermodel. I want to slap her, and shake her, and tell her she's beautiful. But then I remember that slapping and shaking a woman doesn't help her self-esteem, either. Well, unless she's into that kind of thing. (And then I would charge. Hey, don't judge: inside this meek and mild exterior is an entrepreneurial spirit.)

I am fat, and generally I am okay with that. It's not that I love being overweight, it's just that the adoration I have for myself does not hang in the balance of what dress size I wear. Like most other humpty-dumpties I know, I do dream of fitting into lawn chairs more comfortably (those cheap plastic sides can really dig in - especially when one is wearing shorts), but I don't lie awake at night wondering if I'll ever be pretty. I'm already pretty, thanks. And I don't walk the streets with my head down, feeling inferior to my smaller-sized counterparts. I'm a worthy biatch who smiles wider than her hips, makes plenty of eye contact, has a firm handshake and expects the same level of respect and kindness that everyone else gets.

Okay, fine: I expect a higher level of respect and kindness because I am The Maven and thus somewhat goddess-like. But I digress. 

Nearly everyone I know is trying to lose weight, or talking about losing weight, or at the very least thinking about losing weight. And many people I know - women, especially - are doing it because they "hate" their bodies. Like, cry-in-the-bathroom-mirror-after-a-shower type of hate. This is how I used to feel not too long ago, too.  I figured that accepting myself in my current situation would mean I'd be giving in to being a chubby checker, and I would just get bigger and bigger until I had to sew tablecloths together to make summertime patio party moomoos.

But here's what I learned about trying to do something good for yourself when you're busily self-deprecating:

It. 

Doesn't. 

Work.

Here's an example of my previous way of thinking: I wake up in a good mood and have a shower. When I'm toweling off I have a quick glance in the mirror.

Disgust sets in.

Suddenly I'm thinking about how much I despise the way I look, and why can't I stop being such a slob, and look at my fat ass, and how could anyone find me attractive, and why does Tommy's mom look like she's a size 4 and yet has a fatty latte and a muffin in her hand every time I see her, and why can't I just find the time to exercise, and I suck for being this lazy, and I just totally hate myself and my stupid body and it's not fair.

And then I slap on whatever clothes will cover the parts of me I find the grossest and tell myself that'll do until I have a nice body and can buy nice clothes for it, and I sort of do my hair and I sort of do my makeup, but I don't put a lot of effort in because I'm not going to look good anyway because I'm fat. Belugas with lipstick on are still belugas, right?

By the time I arrive where I'm going, I'm not just fat. I'm fat, un-kept and have a serious case of bitch face because I'm so miserable in my own skin. I've beaten myself up enough that I've made the problem a lot worse.

And yet, in that horrible head space, I will decide I need to eat better and exercise so I can be skinny and happy (note that the two of them are synonymous at this point; more on that later). Here's a newsflash:

That doesn't fucking work, either.

The minute I try to do anything out of negativity it goes awry. If I eat a bunch of carrot sticks I just get angry that I have to eat a bunch of carrot sticks to feed my stupid, sluggish metabolism. I feel deprived. And if I exercise, all I can focus on is how my fat is all jiggly and I probably look like a total idiot in these yoga pants. And when I weigh myself and see I haven't lost, or haven't lost as much as I think I have, it completely negates all the hard work I've been doing and gives my hopes of ever being skinny and happy (See? Those two words again) the beating of a lifetime. Before long, I'm elbow deep in a bag of chips, berating myself for it the next morning, and giving up on exercise because I'm a big, huge failure.

In short, I am my own worst enemy and a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If I don't like myself then I'm not going to want to do good things for myself. Period. Why would you do something for someone you don't like? And if I try to do it for my kids, or my spouse, or whoever else it might be for, I'm going to run out of steam pretty damn quick.

I'm old hat at this. I've played the same games with myself over and over again for years: Either I "don't have time to take care of myself right now" or "I'm so ugly/fat/disgusting/whatever that I have to do something drastic RIGHT NOW." There was very little in-between in my world for many years.

One day, I woke up and I just got really tired of feeling so down all the time. I realized that it wasn't about my weight, it was about my attitude.

Like any good structure, one needs to start from the ground up. A solid foundation is crucial to any success plan. Not too long ago, I started laying that foundation for myself. I stopped doing any exercise I didn't enjoy. I stopped chastising myself for every "unhealthy" thing I put in my mouth. I picked out clothing that compliment the body shape I have today instead of waiting for that magic number on the scale or dress size that would make it okay to look fabulous. I worked hard to remind myself that I am beautiful no matter what they say. Words can't--

Oops. That last part is someone else's mantra. But suffice to say that I tell myself I'm beautiful every day. Having done it for awhile now, I'm starting to believe it. Those old messages can take years to erase, and my worry has always been that if I don't love myself today - for who I am right now - then I'm never going to love myself no matter what size I am. And I refuse to go my entire life disliking the wonderful person I am. That is a life wasted, and I simply won't do it another day.

This has taken a lot of effort and a great deal of time. I've had moments - especially PMS moments - where I feel depleted, tearful, disgusting. But like any kind of cognitive work, I'm slowly reshaping the landscape of my scary little brain; I'm teaching it to filter out all those negative media and social messages so I can focus on one thing: unconditionally loving myself.

Now that I know how much I rock, it's easier to make good choices. I don't like my body feeling sick, so I took out gluten and feel much better. A pleasant side effect is that I dropped a couple of dress sizes, have more energy, less anxiety, far better nails and skin, and my digestive system loves me again.

I didn't like my body feeling sore, so I had my incisional hernia repaired. And now that things are improving - no more hematoma, no more bleeding, staples out - I'll soon be able to exercise again. I'm looking forward to getting my body back into shape so I have more energy. And, of course, the happy side effect to that might be that I lose some weight. And that would be great, but it's no longer an absolute when it comes to feeling good about myself.

Today was my first day cutting out all refined sugar and simple carbs. Why did I decide to do this? For the same reason: health. There's a very good chance that I'll lose weight in the process, and I'm sure this pudgezilla will look ravishing with more of a waistline, but even if I don't lose a pound I'm sure I'll feel better and add years to my life. These seemingly drastic steps are so easy to do when I put myself in a place of honour and respect the hell out of me. I might even slaughter a few goats on my shrine of awesome while I'm at it (goat burgers, anyone?)

Anyway, I guess I just want to see more people think they're as great as I think I am. It's lonely up here with only a handful of celebrities and narcissists to keep me company most of the time. So do me a favour and work on loving you if you don't already, ok? You deserve it. You are deliciously gorgeous right now, just as you are. There is so much more to you than your fat genes - or fat jeans, for that matter. And if a girl like me can look in the mirror and feel great, you can, too. Please don't make me slap you.

Well, at least not until we work out a price. And I might need to go find me a leather outfit or two to really get into the roll. Mistress Maven; I kind of like the sound of that.