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| This is my self-esteem garden. And my self-esteem gardener, Captain Tunic. I'm considering throwing in a clothing allowance next year. |
You might already know - or maybe you don't because your stupid co-worker just sent you a link to my site and you're kinda weirded out by me and pretty sure you're going to block their email address after this - that I write a lot about trying to have a positive body image. As a big girl in a thin-obsessed society, this isn't always easy.
It's especially hard when you just bought a new top, are out strolling around in it, and someone you haven't seen in a while runs up to ask if you're pregnant. That happened Halloween night, and I wrote about it here. I'd be lying if I said it didn't bother me, and then bother me because it bothered me, and then bother me because I was bothered that it bothered me.
I won't say that I've been feeling awful about myself ever since, because that's far from the truth. I would say, however, that I've been more keenly aware of how I might appear to others. There's been an undercurrent of sensitivity in my world. It can be heard loudest in my head when I'm getting ready to go out:
I am now dressed for the party.
Wait. Does this top make my belly look like a fully operational fetus factory?
Checking in the mirror.
Ugh. Possibly. Not sure.
I'll ask my husband.
"Geekster, this shirt: Does it appear like the cells of our love are dividing under it?"
Geekster is pretending not to hear me. He does not want to play this game. He's three feet away and just conveniently took out his iPhone to make it look like he's busily checking email.
Somebody alert the Darwin Society. I think I just witnessed self-preservation at work.
Sigh. I'll go change my shirt.
And then change it again.
And my pants.
Ok. That's good.
...Do I need something over this shirt, though? What if I eat food when I'm out and then it looks like a donut-shaped baby is trying to take a rest on my waistband?
Maybe a throw or sweater of some kind would be a good idea. But then it might look like I'm hiding a pregnancy. That's even worse.
Think Maven, think: What do people do when they're not pregnant? Drinking... smoking... jumping jacks.
OMG YES. That's it.
If I casually break into a set of jumping jacks at the party, no one is going to assume I'm pregnant because who jumps like that when they're pregnant? Nobody responsible, that's who. And if I threw in a few puffs of a cigarette in between reps there's no way anyone would think I'm baking a baby.
Problem solved. Maven, you are a Rubenesque genius.
And that's basically how my month went. Minus the cigarette. Maybe with a few friend-winning jumping jacks.
It did hit me a lot harder than I thought it would, and for longer. I'm not upset with the person who came up to touch my imaginary womb child. If she's anything like me, she's probably still kicking herself enough for both of us, anyway. People make mistakes. But I've been doing some deep reflection about just how good - or maybe not so good - I feel with the body I have. What caused me to fall so far over one stupid little comment?
Um, that was rhetorical. If I knew why, I wouldn't have fallen in the first place.
Anyway, I spent November being really gentle with myself, knowing that I would get through it. For some of us, self-esteem is a garden that needs constant tending, and despite our best efforts there will come a drought now and again. I knew patience and kindness would bring those flowers back.
Today is December 3rd - just over a month after P-Day. I went to the gym and something amazing happened.
I tend to use the ellipticals in the corner of the room because they're the better ones and I'm a high class Maven or whatever. But this morning my friend was a few treadmills over and I wanted to talk to her, so I took the shitty elliptical that's loud and old and hard and makes me work muscles I didn't even know I had.
And, unlike my usual machines, this one is right in front of the scary gym mirrors I usually try to avoid.
It was inevitable that I would eventually look up and catch sight of myself. My first thought? Maven, you look fucking fabulous.
No joke. That's exactly what I thought. My jaw nearly hit the floor. Not because I'm fabulous, but because I paid my body compliment - at the size it is, in that moment, without overthinking it at all. Amazing.
That is the first time I really saw the changes in my body since joining the gym last spring. These changes have been painstakingly gradual to the point where I've had to remind myself more than once that losing weight is not my main motivation for going.
But, you know, it doesn't hurt the cause.
Am I still a big girl? Yes. But I'm a big girl who loved what she saw in the mirror today, and that's a wonderful gift to give myself.
So, like, I totally left with a smile on my face. Again, not because I can see changes - even though that's really great - but that I think I look fabulous today despite several weeks living with questionable confidence.
Anyway, if you're having a crap day or week or month, might I suggest just chilling out and riding the wave? It'll get better. Just be really kind to you. And then one day you're going to be as totally into yourself as you were before, even if you don't already have narcissistic tendencies like some of us.
Guess who's back, bitches? And she's got a spade and a hoe and a super sexy sunhat.