How to be as High on Yourself as I am: a Self-Esteem Primer

An amazing self-portrait, I know.

I drew this myself on my new tablet-mousy-thingy. They call this particular type a "Bamboo," but I honestly don't know why. It's not green or long or a renewable resource. I see no pandas attaching themselves to it. But whatever. Call it what you like, but it's fun to draw my feelings instead of just typing them all the time.

I need the kids to go back to school, like, last Thursday.

This is why I'm at work 90 minutes early today. It's not because I'm trying to get ahead on my to-do list. It's not because I was attempting to beat traffic. It's not because I'm trying to look good to my boss (my boss is my Facebook friend and follows me on Twitter - there's no way I can hide my crazy from her). It's because I get an extra 90 minutes to sit - get this - quietly and uninterrupted while I drink my coffee and write a blog post.

And, for that, you are most welcome.

Last week, I blogged about how being fat and miserable keeps us fat and miserable. And what I mean by that is simple: love your fatty self, because taking care of the body you love is a lot easier than hurting the body you hate by stupid shit like fad dieting. This post, of course, meant my inbox filled up with questions about how someone learns to love themselves as much as I love myself.

To be honest, I likely suffer from a deep-seated narcissism. So you probably don't want to love yourself quite as much as The Maven does. When you start to refer to yourself in the third person and not even question it, you know you have a problem. But I digress...

As I've explained many a time, The Maven wasn't always a big fan of The Maven. (See what I'm talking about?) I am a never-ending work in progress, much like the construction site down the road from you that never seems to produce much of anything despite all the guys standing around there each and every day. One day, they say, there will be condos there. And every once in a while you see a bit of digging, a bit of framing, and think to yourself that they better damn well put a Starbucks on the main floor to make up for all the noise you've endured.

Well, I will also have a Starbucks on my main level when I'm done, and I will make the most delicious lattes. But I'm not quite there yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I have a lot of work to do. But here's what I do know: There are concrete things I've done - and still do - that have helped me get this far. So I'm going to share them with you, what with me being such a self-help expert and all. (Please stop laughing.)

1. Let's look at this rationally.
We have one life to live. One. (Unless you believe in reincarnation. But then you might be born a toad or or a mushroom or something, so that doesn't really count anyway.) Do you really want to waste it feeling like shit all the time? What purpose is that serving? And believe me: It is serving some kind of purpose, so you need to figure out what that is.

Are you keeping yourself down because you're afraid of taking any steps to fix it? Is it comfortable doing what you're doing, even if it's not pleasant? Do you get some kind of attention from it? (AKA, having other people feed your ego by saying "Don't say that about yourself! It's not true!" That's not self-esteem, and it's not going to make you feel better about yourself. Like a junkie, you'll always be looking for the next compliment fix. Been there, done that.) Are you afraid of succeeding? Are you afraid of becoming ridiculously arrogant if you're not meek and mild all the time?

News flash: Being ridiculously arrogant is my job, not yours. You can't have it, so you'll have to settle for feeling confident. I know that sucks, but that's how it's gonna go down.

Anyway, figure out what's keeping you down. If it's fear, work through it. If it's depression, open up and talk to someone. If it's traumatic childhood issues, watch a few episodes of Hoarders and realize that pretty much everyone has traumatic childhood issues, but we need to work on letting them go and live for today, or face a lifetime of garbage collection and dead, buried cats.

2. Get over yourself, you big, whiny baby.
Having figured out what's keeping you down, it's time to let that go. Have a good cry if you need to. Say goodbye to the pity party, eat your last self-hatred sandwich. You are not a victim today. You are awesome. You are stuffed full of amazing (and maybe that self-hatred sandwich you just ate. But don't worry, you'll digest it soon). You are capable of great things if you'll just let yourself do them.

3. Come up with something you like about yourself every day. Yes, EVERY DAY.
A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, or whatever. That sounded like a good spot to throw in a Chinese proverb (my apologies to the Chinese if this saying doesn't belong to you. It just sounds like something your wise people would say. It's a compliment, ok?).

Anyway, the thing is, we all have stuff we don't particularly like about ourselves - even me. And now I'm asking you to compliment yourself every day. But start small: if your problem is that you don't like your weight, don't look in the mirror and say "My inner thighs look great today" because you'll probably just start crying while you say it, and that just defeats the whole purpose. Likewise, if your problem is that you're missing an arm from an unfortunate zoo accident, don't say "The lion left a really nice nub at the end of my shoulder" because that will likely have the same result. You can't start with the big stuff. If you could, you'd already have good self-esteem and not need to read this stupid primer.

My issue has mostly been my weight and how ugly I thought I looked because of it. I did not start with that. I started with non-physical things I appreciate in myself. I would look in the mirror and say - out loud, like a crazy woman - "I'm a pretty good writer" or "I'm very involved in my kids' lives and that makes me a good mom" or "I can arrange a beautiful wild flower bouquet." Anything at all that is positive about me. One thing each day, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. No exceptions. 

Why do I do this? Because I'm slowly building up my army of good to defend against the army of darkness (not the movie) that is occupying my head. Every time I plant a positive thought in my brain, it's like planting one troop in a hot zone. Every day the army grows. If it helps you to envision some yummy, sweaty, young infantry guy, go for it. I won't judge. Just do it.

4. Now come up with something harder you like about yourself - every day.
This step comes when you're ready. Step 3 can be done for a very long time or a very short time before implementing step 4. You'll know when it's time. You'll know because you'll test the waters by saying something like "I have very beautiful eyes" and you won't burst into fits of laughter or roll those very beautiful eyes after you say it. You'll believe it. 

Since physical appearance has been my Achilles heel when it comes to self-esteem, being able to slip in some compliments about the way I look was a good indicator that my army of light was growing in numbers. It took me a long time to really like my hair (I know, right? As if! I have great hair.) It took me a long time to like my smile. It took a very, very long time to be able to tell myself I looked pretty in what I was wearing, or to find myself worthy of - and rather stunning in - a beautiful dress in a size 18.

But I got there, slowly.

If you're frustrated by how long it takes to get good at step 4, just remember: At least you're making progress, which is a hell of a lot better than when you were crying into a bag of Oreos before step 1. Progress, not perfection. Baby steps. Enjoy the process, because, when you think about it, we never really reach a destination. We just travel more happily, and the scenery gets a lot nicer.

5. Beat negativity to death with a stick.
Steps 3, 4 and 5 can and should be done daily - when you get there. The thing about our society is that it thrives on negativity. We're fed all these messages every day through the media that we're not good enough unless we look a certain way, reach a certain income level, and own certain things. We're expected to be fountains of youth with fat bank accounts and huge, eerily white smiles plastered on our faces. That's how selling stuff works. Marketing 101; I didn't even have to get a degree to understand that basic concept.

The army of darkness (not the movie) will always be present and waiting for your forces to weaken. You need to replenish your troops regularly with compliments and recognition, surround yourself with positive, loving people, and shun the negative.  It is so easy to pick ourselves apart when we're bombarded with messages telling us to do exactly that. Make your world as safe and healthy as possible.

Despite my best efforts, I find that I sometimes still put myself down. I might have had a bad day, or I'm hormonal, or there's another area of my life not going the way I wish it would and I'm in full-on attack mode on myself. The difference is that I recognize when it's happening now and I fight back against it. If I think to myself "Look at those fat rolls. I'm digusting!" I quickly follow that up with "Maven. you've had a bad day, but you're still beautiful no matter what size you are. Don't be so hard on yourself. It's going to be okay." Blammo! Troops are parachuting into enemy territory. It really works - especially if you do this regularly.

And if you're struggling, just come on down and sit in my Starbucks for a bit. I'll make you a latte and tell you how awesome you are. Promise.

Jamie Oliver and Fat Acceptance

Celebrity chef Jamie Oliver has been getting some bad press lately and I honestly don't know why.

First of all, the fact that he's terribly adorable should earn him some points: A foul-mouthed British boy with awesome culinary skills and a love of good food, Jamie has that special something that makes you want to get busy in the kitchen.

You know, cooking. Get your mind out of the gutter!

(Well, I won't lie. I'd play "stuff the turkey" with the guy any day.)

Recently, Jamie used all his charm, influence, and serious wok skills to try and do some good in Huntington, West Virginia, which, according to the CDC, is home to the most unhealthy people in the USA. He attempted to revamp the school lunch menus, increase the use of fresh foods, and teach the town how to cook from scratch.

And what does he get for his efforts? A lot of bitching.

The internet is awash with folk who have something bad to say about the celebrity chef's efforts. There are those who think he sensationalized the town and its health concerns, those who defend the country's lunch programs, those who resent a foreigner coming into their country telling them how to eat, and those who think he's shaming fat people for their fatness.

I gotta tell you, I'm just not seeing it that way.

I've been following the Food Revolution for the last few weeks and am beyond impressed with Mr. Oliver's attempts at creating a healthier generation of people.

First of all, there is no sensationalism needed when it comes to the stats on Huntington, or most of the western world for that matter. We, in the richer countries, have access to the best food, the best medicine, and more money than people in the majority of the world could ever imagine, and yet far less healthy than we should be. Worse still, a good deal of our major killers are directly linked to poor diet and a sedentary lifestyle.

What, exactly, was sensational about Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution? All the talk about how our kids are the first generation in recorded history to likely live shorter lives than their parents? That said lives are being cut short due, in large part, to our bad choices at the grocery store? He may have shown an oversize coffin at a funeral home, but it wasn't a prop to attract ratings. He was simply making a very serious point: It's time to step out of this sea of denial we've all been living in and make some positive changes.

According to reports, some of Jamie's lunches on the new menu don't meet US federal requirements. That's because, as far as I can tell, the federal requirements are laughable. When a government considers french fries to be a vegetable, their program becomes a rather unfunny joke. That's like saying gummies that say 'contain fruit juice' on the box count as a fruit serving. (Sadly, I know that somewhere out there, someone is reading this and thinking 'well, don't they?' and I want to swat that person with something - maybe a cookbook)

Look, processed foods are bad for us. I'm not saying we should never eat them, although that would probably be ideal. I'm no biologist, but from what I understand, the more additives, preservatives and artificial everythings we put into our stomachs in the name of convenience, the more work our liver has to do to process it, the more confusion our body has over how to handle the "food" we just gave it, and the more health problems we can potentially create.

And what is one of the major symptoms of being nutritionally unhealthy? Being overweight. Sorry, but that's the truth.

I roll my eyes at all the declarations of "fat shaming" Jamie and the producers supposedly did during the six part series. I say this as a beautiful, intelligent, proud woman who just happens to be fat. I'm not ashamed of my body, I don't hate myself, I don't cry in front of the mirror. Do I want to lose weight? Only if it comes naturally by making good choices in my life. I no longer diet, I no longer exercise to the point of exhaustion in the name of the almighty calorie burn. I don't feel less than people who are thinner than I am, nor do I chastise myself for eating chocolate or chips or even french fries - now my new favourite vegetable.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't worry about what this extra weight is doing to my heart, my pancreas, my blood vessels. But instead of hating myself and worrying myself sick, I've spent several years learning to love and accept myself for who I am at this moment, in this, my only body. Funny thing is, the more I love myself, the better I want to take care of myself. And maybe that's why I'm so open to the concept of this series.

I have seen fat shaming. I cringe when I hear a fat joke - and that's quite often, as they're so prominent in today's society. I shudder when I see a fat person who obviously loathes their body. I think it's wrong and hurtful to put someone down for how they look.

However, I do not think it's wrong to point out that obesity often precedes a higher incidence of preventable health problems. We need to cut through the political correctness bullshit and look at the facts. Jamie Oliver isn't against fat people, he's simply against ignorance.

And believe me: thinking it's okay to serve pizza and sugary milk as a school breakfast is ignorant.

From what I've seen, the show aims to educate a population that has lost its way. Because, let's face it, America, when it comes to food, you have definitely lost your way. But you're not alone. Many a wealthy nation has forgotten how to care for itself in the name of time-saving and cost-reduction. We get lazy; we get complacent; we forget how to do basic things for ourselves, like cooking.

When I saw the show, I didn't look down at my fat rolls and cry. I didn't feel like anyone was judging me or the town of Huntington. I didn't want to chain myself to the local Weight Watchers building so someone could teach me how to eat myself skinny.

What I did feel was relieved that someone would have the guts to go into the most powerful country in the world and speak the truth: Your children are getting sick. You need to change the way you eat. You need to cook with wholesome foods so that you can live longer, healthier lives and keep your spot as the nation to watch. Because right now, you're heading down a very dark path. Your people are dying too soon.

Now is the time to step up your game, America.

(And he did the same thing in his own country the year before, so there's no need to feel singled out, Americans. Like I said, you're not the only ones lost down that dark path.)

What I also felt was inspired. An urge rose in me to clear the counter and start whipping up meals made from whole foods again. Like many other families, we've become the victims of an overwhelmed life: packed schedules, fighting children, bills piling up. Sometimes, the last thing on my mind is mustering up enough time and energy to cook a decent meal.

The last few weeks, I've been making cooking more of a priority. Is it pricier to buy whole foods? Yes, it is. Is it more expensive to pay the price for not doing it? Absolutely. Time off work or school, medical and dental bills, the cost of losing out on life due to illness -- all those things are expensive in their own way, too.

Do I think poverty is an issue holding back a full scale food revolution? Definitely. But then again, there are kids in some of the poorest countries eating far more nutrient-rich food than many kids in western societies. They might eat less of it, but then again, we could probably stand to eat less, too. And since the typical household discards about 30% of the food they buy, maybe we could stretch the budget by choosing quality over quantity more often.

Jamie Oliver doesn't have all the answers and neither do I. But at least he's doing something to break people out of an unhealthy reality. There is a different way to eat, to cook, to live. And this fat chick wholeheartedly supports it.

But hey, what do I know? I'm just a Canadian.

Being The Fat Friend

I wanted to thank everyone for the overwhelming response to my last post. I would thank each and every one of you individually, but I'm too lazy. It's summer, it's raining, I have my period and I'd rather write something new with what little energy I have on seven hours of very, very broken sleep. I'm sure you understand.

I will say that Gutsy and I are starting to get along significantly better the last few days. I haven't finished reading the book yet, but I have come up with two techniques that really seem to help: keeping my cool even when he's not, and defusing the situation by making him laugh. This creativity is another shining example of what makes me so great.

My awesomeness: it's visible nearly everywhere you look.

Notice I said 'nearly'. That's my lead-in to today's topic (writers like lead-ins).

I've come to the conclusion that I may very well always be The Fat Friend, or some variation thereof. It seems that, no matter what group I'm with, I'm the heaviest of the bunch. I forget that fact sometimes because I like myself so much that it's easy for me to overlook the lack of skinny in my jeans. I only tend to really notice it when pictures of me emerge that are not cropped at the neck. These sometimes make me sad for a few hours. If I were a queen, I would simply order a ban of all such pictures and demand that those in existence be burned in the town square. Then I would do some random flogging, but only because I like the word 'flog' and also enjoy abusing power.

But I digress.

I'm not a self-hater. I'm really not. There are aspects of me I don't enjoy - like my genetics - but I actually think I'm pretty great overall. About the only time I start to question myself is when I'm around a group of women who are significantly smaller than I am and go on and on about how fat they are (and they're not fat - not even close - which is so infuriating). It's apparent that, if they were my size, they would carve the fat off their bodies with a kitchen knife before going out in public. That type of poor body image is contagious, and so I attempt to fill my friend basket at least 75% full of women who care about their health but not necessarily the number on their scales (these friends tend to have the least amount of weight problems - imagine that!) Those women don't see my weight and don't really care too much about theirs; they take notice of how their pants are fitting, try to eat reasonably healthy and get a bit of exercise, but that's where it ends. That's where I want to be: healthy, but not obsessive. I admire that trait and I think I'm nearly there.

Being The Fat Friend is also hard when you happen to surround yourself with very beautiful people, like I do. I don't purposely invite them into my circle, but rather they flock to me like moths to a flame; a chubby little flame that bounces light off their elegant wings.

I know my friends like me because I'm cool and funny and talented and positive and terribly smart. But I also wonder if I'm more approachable because I'm not a threat to anyone's ego. I mean, who's going to look better in a summer dress? There's so little competition. Heck, I don't even own a summer dress. I haven't had one since I was about sixteen. That's over half a lifetime ago.

It's not like I'm feeling sorry for myself or anything. I have been gifted with many great things in my life; addictions and cellulite balance me out nicely. I can't be too perfect or no one would hang out with me, right? That's why I have to keep this jogging thing to a moderate level and not go all crazy with the weight loss. If I hit Skinnyville I've gone too far, and my Facebook event invites will drop dramatically. By maintaining a certain level of pudge on my frame I pretty much ensure my continued success as a popular girl.

As with everything else in life, fat is what you make of it. If I can take enough off that my heart will want to keep beating for another 50 years, yet not take enough off that I get snubbed at the park for having great legs and great hair (there's a fine line between admiration and jealousy, ladies), that would be perfect.

But in all seriousness, I'm likely never going to be a very small person. I just don't care enough about what other people think and I like food too much not to eat it, or to barf it up afterwards. If I hover in the early teens in dress sizes that will be perfectly acceptable. As it is, I've lost a full size in my first few weeks of running, and it feels damn good. I'm still The Fat Friend, but I may put in for a name change so I can be known as the Slightly Less Obese Friend. With any luck I'll be The Borderline Healthy Weight Friend in a few months. I don't care to be much more than that, as I can still enjoy pastry and whole fat lattes without worrying about gaining 8 pounds in a sitting.

And, if I ever have a Fat Friend of my very own, I'm going to take her out shopping for a stunning summer dress so she can feel like she's rockin' the park instead of hiding her blindingly white legs in those capris. Maybe I'll get one of my own little dresses then, too.