Why is it so hard to love the glorious hot mess we are? I was going about my merry way when I received a text from
a man I met online a couple of months prior. We talked and decided to meet for dinner. His idea of dinner – a couple of mojitos and appetizers. After the second time seeing each other (not truly getting to know one
another), I receive the inevitable text saying he doesn’t think it’s going to work. At that moment, the other me waved hello. Th other fat me – the one I try so hard to banish from my life now.
While she sits and smiles holding a bag of chips, feelings of foolishness and not good enough set in. She’s winning. Ah – was it because I do not love myself and that’s
why the “you are an incredible woman so don’t take it personally….” text lit up my phone?
I am growing weary of trying to balance this life of mine with the struggles of food addiction. I tend to think of myself as an oak tree. I have been through so many storms and I
believe I am living proof of the quote “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.” Why can’t it help me love myself more? I’ve been told this and heard it more times than I can count.
Is it because even after the success of losing the weight, remnants remain? The loose skin – e.g. angel wings; flabby stomach pooch. Fear of IT coming back. And when IT does
(not matter how much), panic sets in. It does for me at least. I work out almost 7 days a week and even though I consider myself toned, it’s hidden under whatever remainder of what used to be.
That’s not to say I don’t have things I “love” about myself. But somehow it feels like I go in search of those things. I “love” that I no longer
crave pizza or hamburgers. The fast food or frozen store-bought pizza. The friend hamburger patty. I “love” being open to trying new things – healthy active things. Although I’m still not sure about
jicama. I love that I look forward to yoga on Monday nights – that is my happy hour. It’s a great way to end the first day of a new week. Or getting my morning walk in before the day even starts. Those things
somehow give me a sense of accomplishment.
What does it truly mean to love one’s self? I find myself restless most times and find it hard to find peace within myself. This journey has a funny way of messing with your
mind. In all ways. I am still judgmental of myself. Even after the pavement of the road is long behind me, I find it hard to forgive myself. I look in the mirror and it is hard for me NOT to realize it’s not the
fact I have a sagging stomach or wrinkly thighs or a muffin top that makes me who I am.
I will always have struggles. Struggles of making the wisest of food choices. Struggles of finding something healthy and feeling satisfied. Struggles of learning to love myself.
Oh how I wish it were simpler. That I can wake up one day and feel the self-love everyone talks about. I can look in the mirror and like how I look in a sexy pair of panties. Or know I’m truly not the problem when I receive one of the many “you’re an incredible woman (you have great qualities), so don’t take it personally” texts.
How will you love yourself today? Someone recently told me to say this out loud ten times a day so I can hear myself say it: “I am worthy of (love happiness, etc.) I am deserving
of (love, happiness, feeling content).”
