Well, they've arrived. I knew this time would come eventually, and this month the feelings have hit me hard. I felt like I prepared myself by trying to expect these feelings of "ugh", but expecting them doesn't make it any easier when they actually finally show up.
I look in the mirror and I don't like what I see. I see the rolls, I see the fat. I don't see the strong anymore, and I don't feel it. People can tell me what they see 100 times and I won't believe it. Because I can't see what they see. I see what I see.
I was so proud that I gained back those 40 pounds lost in the anxiety pit. I was so proud that I looked stronger and healthier with the weight on. I was a little bothered as I watched the size tags in my clothing increase by twos, but I knew that it had to happen if I was going to be healthy again.
Last year and this year I have participated in a fundraising campaign called Junedresses. It is put on by United Way and the idea is: you wear a dress or skirt every day in June, and people sponsor you for your efforts. The money raised goes toward other charities that empower women.
The irony is not lost on me that as I struggle into dresses that fit me right last year and are a little too snug this year, I am not feeling empowered. I'm feeling sad and defeated and self-conscious and embarrassed. While I am confident about my smarts, my intelligence, my brains, my passions, my loving nature, my mothering, my everything else inside...my appearance does not make the list.
One of my biggest pet peeves is when people complain about something and do absolutely nothing to fix it. I firmly and vehemently believe that is not okay, and I have been brainstorming ways to fix my problem, and have revived some old habits. I'm trying to choose the healthy habits and avoid the ones that got me into this mess in the first place. It is hard.