Day Eighteen: Painful Pettiness

Before the "30-Day Challenge," I considered writing about today's topic--insecurity.  I decided against it, however, since I try to avoid using my blog as a pity party.  My challenge today is to post a picture of my biggest insecurity; the true challenge will be to write without coming across as whiny or pathetic. I'm afraid this is going to be the most predictable, clichéd piece of twaddle I've ever produced. So if this blog becomes too annoying, feel free to click that little red "X" in the top right-hand corner and come back to visit tomorrow.  I will totally understand. 

(deep breath)

I have always been insecure about the way I look. 

(exhale)

I know this has been done to death and I honestly wish I had something better to write about, but I'm a fairly confident person in all other aspects of my life.  It's just this.  one.  thing.

Looking back, I realize now that my insecurities as a child and even a teenager were completely ridiculous.  In fact, the things I should have been more insecure about (my clothes, my teeth, my gait), I ignored and instead focused on being too tall, which I interpreted as "too big."  I look back at pictures of myself as a high school senior and remember thinking I was a blob.  In actuality, I was 5'10" and 128 pounds with size C boobs.  

I was basically her size with larger chesticles:

Unlike Miss Swift, though, my weight was distributed a bit differently.  I had a bit more of an hourglass shape--a shape I keep hearing is a good thing.  I couldn't see it, though. The weight I did carry was in my hips and butt, so those were the only parts of my body I focused on.  I was so self-conscious that my parents never had to worry about me dressing slutty.  In an attempt to hide my body, I wore the Western (teenage) equivalent of a burka; my mumu was a closet full of blue jeans and baggy t-shirts or sweatshirts. 

When I went to college, I initially gained the "freshman fifteen" (minus five) but eventually lost it with the help the Spinikers and Barleys diet.  Turns out dancing until 2 AM with your buddies three or four nights a week is great exercise.  It was the one time in my life I felt more confident about my body.  I still thought I was too large, but I got enough compliments about my big boobs and long legs that I felt a little better about myself and would even venture out in the occasional halter top or belly shirt.   (Note:  Seeing that admission in writing makes me feel like a total loser.)

After college I got married, and like so many new brides, I began gaining weight.  Since then I've been up and down the scale.  Two years ago, I went to a weight loss clinic and got a prescription for phentermine.  Over a three-month period, I lost around 19 pounds.  I felt better than I'd felt in a long time, both physically and mentally.  Though I still wasn't at my "ideal" weight (does that really exist?), I dropped two sizes and people noticed.  It felt good.

Then we decided to have a baby. 

Four months after we started trying, I was pregnant.  For the first six or seven months, I maintained a healthy weight.  I was so proud of myself.  When people would tell me, "Eat whatever you want!  You're pregnant," I would smile and mentally pat myself on the back for using self-control.  Then I hit 34 weeks and everything changed.  I was hungry all the time and food tasted so good.  I found myself eating more and more.  The last four weeks of my pregnancy, I ate more food than I've ever eaten in my life.  I couldn't stop.   I honestly don't know how much I weighed because I eventually stopped looking at the scales at the doctor's office. 

I didn't realize how big I'd become in other places besides my belly until I got home from the hospital after the birth.  One of the first things I did was take a real shower since the shower at the hospital was a glorified water hose.  After my shower, I got out and stood in front of the mirror to evaluate the damage.  From the front and side, I was pleasantly surprised.  I was blessed with good genes in the elasticity department, so I don't have any stretch marks.  My stomach still stuck out a little, but it was actually flatter than it had been at my largest pre-pregnancy weight.  I was feeling pretty good until I turned around and OH MY LORD WHAT IS THAT THING!?!?!?  I was convinced there was another baby in my ass and possibly one in each thigh.  That was the only explanation.  How had I gained so much weight in my rear end and hips without knowing it?  Having a uterus full of baby tends to dwarf your other body parts.  When I had looked in the mirror during my pregnancy, all I saw was belly. 

Now I'm six months out and struggling to get the weight off.  I have never been so unhappy with myself physically.  I've had so many people tell me, "It's worth it because you got your baby."  I get what they're saying, but having a child should not be an excuse for being overweight and miserable.  I've always envied thin women, but when I see women who have three kids and size two pants, it makes me want to become a hermit.  And it never fails that on days I take the extra time to dress nice (in what few clothes I have that fit me) and feel better about myself, someone takes my picture and I'm reminded of how much bigger I am.  I look back at pictures from ten years ago and wonder, "Why on earth did I not like my body?"  Current me would like to travel back in time and give old me a good shaking (then I'd visit last year's me and duct tape my mouth closed).

I said earlier that I avoided this topic in the past because I didn't want to have a pity party.  I don't write this in an attempt to have someone tell me, "You look fine."  I don't want or need that kind of encouragement.  I don't want to feel better about how I look right now because I'm not at a healthy weight.  Not only is this having an effect on me emotionally, it's also affecting the way I feel physically on a day to day basis.  I struggle with completing tasks that weren't a problem for me previously.  I need to lose the rest of my baby weight plus what I've gained since then (which in my defense isn't totally my fault but that's a different story).   So instead of misguided encouragement, I beg you to hold me accountable.  Don't try to console me with obligatory compliments; pester the crap out of me about what I'm eating (or not eating) and how much exercise I'm getting.  Hell, feel free to call me "dumpybutt" or "Princess Pudgles"" if you're so inclined.  It's time to get ruthless, folks.  I know I'm not ever going to look like I did at 18.  I may not even look like I did at 28!  But I need to be healthy, for me and for my family.  I want to set a good example for my daughter.  And I want to stop showering in the dark.

I'm supposed to post a picture, but I'll be damned if I'm going to attach a picture of myself right now.  Instead, I'm going to post a picture that represents how I feel right now and hope that it gives you a little better insight into my feelings of insecurity.  I also hope it makes you snort laugh.