The Nomad Mom Diary

I'm carrying around a LOT of baggage

Wearing my fat pants

by /

Today I wore my fat pants to work. I wore them because I *thought* I couldn’t fit into my regular pants and was too afraid to try. I couldn’t face the anxiety of knowing that my butt had grown another inch and my pants were not going to close.

I gave up before I even tried. And that is so not me.

Why do so many of us have terrible body image issues? How much of our perception of our weight is just that – a false image in our own heads that doesn’t match up with what everyone else sees?

I feel like I’ve spent half my life judging my self-worth by the pair of pants I put on in the morning. 

By a pair of pants, people. A pair of pants.

I am a grown woman. In 2009, I moved halfway around the world with a 7 week old baby to a house I had never seen, and I didn’t have the courage to try on a pair of pants. And the really sad part (as though this whole thing wasn’t incredibly depressing…it is), the sad part is that they would have fit.

I’m tired of thinking about my weight. I’m tired of trying to dredge up the will to go back on Weight Watchers and eat salad for 6 weeks so I can lose a few pounds. I’m tired of thinking that losing those few pounds will change my life.

But most of all, I’m tired of knowing that losing those pounds would change my life. Last summer I lost 8 lbs and I strutted my bikini-bottomed butt around the beach, purposefully stripped down in front of my husband and bowled over the other playgroup moms with my newfound confidence. 8 measly pounds and my whole outlook on life changed.

The key word in this whole discussion is ME. Me, me, me, me, me. My outlook, my feeling, my actions. No where in there did another person’s opinion have any impact.

Thanks to Melanie’s post, I am sitting myself down for an intervention. I’m through with the yo-yo dieting, undressing in the closet, sneaking a cookie in the kitchen at 11pm. I’m through with shoving my not too big butt off into the corner to hang with the other “think they’re too fat” gals. I’m through with letting 5 pounds make or break my happiness, my marriage, my identity.

I am going to get out there on the dance floor and twerk right alongside Melanie. Maybe then I’ll remember what other people think my moneymaker is worth and I’ll let that guide me for a change.

Related Posts

Comments

  1. I loved that post too. Really hit home. I’m tired of thinking about food. I’m tired of thinking about the 30 extra kilos I’m carrying around. I’m tired of leading a double life of a secret snacker. Actually, I’m starting at a clinic this week to sort it all out in my head once and for all. Because I know I’m a fully fledged member of that Fat Girl Club. And it’s a shitty club to be a member of. No fun when everyone hates themselves.

  2. I’m sitting here with tears. Dance honey! You’re beautiful inside and out.
    Strut your stuff.
    Thank you – you made my day.

  3. OMG you took the words out of my mouth Lynn. I have struggled FOREVER with body issues and just the thought of getting on a scale gives me cold sweats, like I literally cannot do it. In fact, the other day I had to stop playing with my son because I was in front of a full length mirror and could not stand looking at myself. Le sigh. xo

  4. Oh man, I’ve been there too. I think I need to permanently move the damn scale out of the bathroom. I can feel it mocking me every time I walk past the door. I can’t tell you how many mornings I have stared at it saying to myself, “Do not get on that scale. You just had two pieces of toast and a giant coffee. The numbers won’t be right.” And then I get on anyway. Blah.