Weight <> Worth

Sometimes I am just coasting along in life. Happy. Oblivious. Thinking all is good and well and fine and dandy.

Then BAM!

I totally lose my shit for no reason.

Or at least for what would appear to an outsider as no reason.

Does this ever happen to you? One innocuous thing triggers a meltdown/freak out and then the floodgates open and all the stuff that you have buried away, pretending it doesn’t exist, comes pouring out?

Well it happens to me. I think I am not alone when I talk about these things but maybe I am. Who knows? But even if I am, even if you can’t relate, I still need to talk about it.

So what happened today, you ask?

Well this morning I woke up a little late but no big deal. It’s Friday and I am usually struggling Friday mornings (after my crazy long days on Thursday) to get moving. I woke up, worked out, packed my lunch (which is typically packed the night before except for on Friday). I was about to pull together an outfit to wear to work before I hopped in the shower and that is when it happened. I discovered that my work clothes were still in the dryer from Monday (yeah, that happens some times) which would normally not matter except they weren’t dry. What they were was a giant stinky, mildew-y ball of wrinkled nastiness. Whoops. No clean work clothes.

Cue mad dash throughout the house to find something to wear. Still no big deal except I was running late and am now even later and I can feel the stress building up.

I was digging through my closet (WHY THE HELL DO I HAVE SO MANY SWEATERS AND LONG-SLEEVED TOPS??? I LIVE IN FLORIDA!!!) and I just can’t get my head straight. I pull out a top- can’t wear it (because it shows my tattoos), I pull out a dress and I can’t fit in it- too tight around my arms and chest. And that is when it happens. The floodgates open.

Cue sobbing freak out about weight….

I am so fat. Nothing fits me. I look terrible. I guess I will just be a worthless, fat, piece of shit forever.

Followed by sobbing and some crazy high pitched squealing noises.

And what’s even worse. Something similar happened 2 weeks ago while E and I were driving to visit his family for 4^th of July. We were not ten minutes from his Mom’s house when I had an out of the blue meltdown.

I look so disgusting. How could you let me wear this? The kids are going to make fun of me. My arms are so fat and jiggly. Why would I think I could wear this dress in public? Your family is going to think I am so gross.

This meltdown led to us pulling over, me changing into a different outfit, freaking out again, and then changing back. You know what happened? The minute we pulled into the driveway and I saw that big smile on his niece's face as our car pulled up I didn’t give the dress I was wearing another thought. 

What happened today? Well, I found an outfit of course. I mean I didn’t go to work naked. I got dressed, calmed the fuck down, apologized to E for my emotional freak out (which he ever so kindly did not judge me for), and went to work.

But here is what is killing me. This pattern. This showing of negative, harsh, critical self-talk. The feeling of no matter how much I continually tell myself that weight is just a number not a measure of my worth I still say things like I will just be a worthless, fat, piece of shit forever.

The truth is yes, I have gained some weight. More now than what I weighed three years ago. (I am addressing this – that topic will be saved for another post) And yes, maybe I am fat. Or at least I am currently the proud owner of some new fat. However I should say that. BUT I am not fat and therefore worthless. 

Being overweight does not affect my worth. And the fact that I still, subconsciously, make that connection between the two is scary. Hearing myself utter those words today sucked.

Which is why I am talking to you about it. Because I need to say it out loud.

MY WORTH IS NOT AFFECTED BY MY WEIGHT

It is not lowered or raised or determined by the number on the scale. My worth comes from being a good person. My worth is created by my capacity to love, my kindness, my contribution to society. None of which are impacted by that number on the scale. 

MY WORTH IS NOT AFFECTED BY MY WEIGHT

I will continue to say it again and again until I believe it. Fake it until you make it, right?

I know that this process takes time. And I know I have come a helluva long way from the person that hated herself on the regular 5 years ago. I have progressed leaps and bounds. I do love myself. I do. I just sometimes forget how to show it.

Thanks for hearing me today.

Love and hugs,

Dacia

xoxoxoxo

Love and Hate: A Guest Post

My friend Racheal reached out to me to ask if she could write something for my blog. She told me she had been inspired by my blog but that there is something more now to that inspiration and she wanted to share it with my readers. I, of course, said yes. It was both humbling and exciting to even have been asked. Racheal has been a part of my life for over 8 years now and with me throughout my journey since very early on. I am beyond thrilled to share her story with all of you :) 

I have spent most of my life disliking the way I look. From a young age, I had been told by my family and the kids at school that I was overweight, that I was fat. Hearing this repeatedly, especially from the people in my life that are supposed to love me unconditionally, helped me learn and adopt several bad behaviors. The first, to dislike myself and the second, to have a bad relationship with food. By the time I was 16, I had successfully learned how to use food to make me feel better and that if you eat too much, you can never lose weight. Along with that, the message that "fat girls don't get married" became a regular thing that my mother said to me. So as most teenagers do, striving to fit in and being extremely aware of my size (my first driver's license listed my weight at 235 pounds), I pretty much stopped eating. I saved my lunch money daily and bought cd's instead of lunch and didn't each much for dinner. After having this kind of behavior for two years, I gained 18 pounds and graduated from high school at 253 pounds. And you know what, I still hated the way I looked.

In college, I tried different weight loss diet plans. Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, the drops, and so on. You name it, I tried it. I still managed to gain weight despite trying to follow these programs as well as any college kid can. And I still hated the way that I looked and the way I felt about myself. But I did enjoy my time in college and made some really great friends. 

After graduation, I moved out on my own with my first real job to start my career. I went back to Weight Watchers, because I figured life was different now. I wasn't reliant on the school cafeteria anymore and I could cook my own food. This time around with this program, it was different. I lost almost 60 pounds over the course of about a year. And you would think that I would feel great about myself and my accomplishment. But I didn't. I still didn't care much for the way I looked. I still saw myself as the 286 pound woman that I was the year before even though my clothes were significantly smaller and I was starting to shop in the Misses department. I really didn't know why I was so unhappy with myself. I mean, I had grown up being told how my life's happiness would come from losing weight. But it wasn't. I mean, I had a good job, amazing friends, supportive family, a great place to live, and most importantly, aside from my weight, I was in good health. What more could I ask for? 

2007

What more could I ask for? I repeat the question intentionally. From the outside, I felt like everything should be perfect. From the inside, I still hated the way I looked. I hated my body. And for the next 8 years of my life, I would continue feeling the same way. I even got married in that time, advanced my career, had some amazing experiences that most people could only dream of having. And yet, deep down, I wasn't happy with myself. I was still an overweight woman and even though fat girls do get married, this fat girl still had major apprehension about her body. 

2010

A few years ago, Dacia reached out to me and shared a link to her blog with me. I started reading her blog, and what she had to say really resonated with me. I could relate and for the first time, I felt like someone else got how I felt about myself and what I was going through. Even sitting through those Weight Watchers meetings, I felt like no one understood my journey and the mountain I felt like I was facing. And of course, through her blog, I started reading others, and a lot more books, articles and magazines about health and weight loss. There was one common theme that I kept seeing. Anyone can lose weight, but not everyone can keep the weight off. Those that have kept the weight they lost off have been the ones that have learned to love themselves as they are.

Learn to love myself as I am. That seems simple enough. I mean, I love my personality, my ability to do my job really well, how I build relationships, and so on. But here's the thing, that's all the stuff that's on the inside. Not once have I ever loved my outside. So now here's another tough question that I had to figure out. How do I love my outside when I've spent a lifetime hating it? 

How do I love my outside when I've spent a lifetime hating it? I agonized over this question and how to answer it for the longest time. I read more about health and weight loss. I grasped at every topic even closely relating to this topic. I even considered bariatric surgery to help me learn to love my outside (this consideration did not last long for me, not that there is anything wrong with it, it's just not for me). I was almost obsessed and still striving on some level to "lose weight to feel better about myself." But I already knew that this wasn't the answer. I'd lost weight before (that 60 pounds I lost, I gained it all back along with 20 more) so how would losing weight again help me love myself? It doesn't. Weight Watchers even told me repeatedly that as you lose weight you'll start to love your new body. I started to hate my body even more as I had lost the weight. I mean, almost every part of me between my shoulders and my thighs was covered in stretch marks and my boobs were starting to sag something fierce. This was like a new barrier in my mind even. I mean, how could you love looking like you have the skin of a senior citizen when you are in your early 30's? 

This past November, I tore the ACL in my right knee. I had surgery in March to reconstruct it, just so that I could walk enough for my job daily, let alone anything else. During the first 3 months of recovery, I learned how to answer the question. So how have I learned to love my outside when I've spent a lifetime hating it? It all started with having this surgery. Instead of being angry about everything that I couldn't do, I appreciated what I could do. This started with the littlest of things, being able to get into the car to go home from surgery without bending my one knee. The people at the hospital honestly thought they were going to have to do more to help me, and when I realized after the drugs wore off that I did that all by myself (mostly), I was proud. This appreciation and pride in my body started so small, but kept going. Every day was something new. I could get myself in and out of the bed by myself, shower by myself (if you think climbing over the side of a tub while on crutches and with a knee that doesn't bend is easy, think again), and so on. This appreciation and pride that was growing helped me tell my husband daily that we were not having fast food for dinner, we were going to have something home cooked and healthy. 

I sit here now, 3 months post op, and I am in a very different place with myself than I could have ever imagined I would be because of that whole thing. But honestly, finding that appreciation of my body and what it could do has really helped me drastically change the way that I feel about myself. I love my outside just as much as the inside. And as that change has taken place, all of my choices have changed drastically. I opt for healthier food because it's what I want, not because it feels like a chore. I exercise because it's actually fun and not a chore, even doing some of the things that I hate doing are more fun. And I'm realizing with the 12 pounds that I've lost since I had knee surgery that if I wouldn't have found this love for myself that I think my health would be greatly suffering.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to say that anyone should have knee surgery, or any other kind of surgery, to find their appreciation or love of themself. What I am saying is that you should take the time to look at what you can do and appreciate that about yourself. Even if it's something as little as getting in and out of the car, or as much as running a marathon. It takes time. Day by day, being proud of all those little things that you can do adds up and makes a difference. 

2015

I hope you enjoyed reading Racheal's story as much as I did. As you know, I am an advocate for self love and body acceptance at any/every size- I feel that is the key to being able to lose and then maintain weight loss for me. I am super excited to be able to support Racheal along on her journey the way she has done for me. So please send some love and encouragement her way - talking about the tough stuff on a public forum is not an easy thing to do. This girl definitely has chutzpah! 

Love and hugs,

Dacia

xoxoxox

Body Image at 36 and 16....

I cannot tell you what I thought about my body and my self-image back when I was 16. Heck, I am 36 now (soon to be 37) and I probably couldn’t tell you honestly what I thought about myself for most of my life.

I am sure I had periods where I hated my appearance and I am sure I have had periods where I was comfortable, even loved how I looked. But as a teenager…I am not sure what I felt.

I probably felt what most teenagers seem to feel- wanting a smaller waist or bigger breasts. Boys to like me. A date for the dance. To be on the homecoming court/cheerleading squad/captain of the debate etc. – you get my point.

I write, every now and again, about body image. About health at every size and continuing to live a happy, healthy, active life not dictated by the scale. I talk openly about how much the topic of body image can drive me into a frenzy. Either because of how hurtful people can be or because of how body focused we have become, even when trying to not be.

I like to think I am at a healthy place with my body. I like how I look (most of the time, I mean come on- I am still a human) and I try to not let my outward appearances change how I feel about myself as I also try to not let other people’s outward appearances change/skew/determine how I feel about them. I mean, yeah it is so easy to make assumptions by looking at someone. But how often are we wrong when doing so? I have no numbers here but I can tell you that most of the times I have done that my assumptions have been wrong. And what did it ever get me – a whole lot of nothing good. So I try to stop. I try to treat everyone with kindness and respect and to be open.

I am thirty-six (soon to be thirty-seven) and it has taken me a long time to get comfortable in my own skin. It is something I am proud of and I want everyone to feel this same way, it’s liberating.

That’s me now, and it took me a long time to get here.

And then there is Ally….Ally Del Monte AKA losergurl. She is 16 years old and she is my role model. Funny, I know. She’s so young but man, she has got it all figured out. She is smart and funny and beautiful and has the biggest heart. I love her writing, her perspective. But more than anything I have so much respect for her bravery. She puts her life out there, in the open for the world to see, and she doesn’t sugar coat the harsh realities of what life is like as an overweight teenager. I read this piece she wrote on the Huffington Post (originally from her blog) and I was just floored by how authentic her voice is and just how absolutely amazing it is to see someone just 16 years old really understand the truth and impacts of body image and how societal beliefs/norms can make just about anyone feel substandard.

It is such a great piece and I would love for you all to check it out. Either at the HuffPo or Ally’s blog.

Thank you Ally, even though you don’t know me (and will probably never see this), for being the epitome of courage, self-love, kindness and compassion…at just 16 years of age.

Love and hugs-

Dacia

xoxoxoxo

I Used to Give a Sh*t

I posted this pic the other day…kind of as a preview to a post I had been thinking about writing….and realized later it was terribly small and hard to see, if viewing from a smartphone. Hopefully this time around you can actually read it.

 

 

 

 

You see, I used to give a shit.

Not saying that I don’t now, because I do, just not in the same way.  Now, I don’t let what other people might be thinking about me influence decisions I make regarding only me.

I used to view my body in a way that brought shame and embarrassment. And I am not talking about when I weighed almost 300 pounds, but I am talking about over the last two years of maintenance. I used to let what I thought others would think about my appearance dictate how I presented myself in public.

For example, when I bought my first bikini I thought to myself -‘this isn’t to wear now; this is to wear when you lose ten pounds. No one wants to see your flabby belly and thighs’

Or when dressing to run or take a hot yoga class it was always short sleeve t-shirts and capri length pants – because no one wanted to see my jiggly arms or that bulge around my knees.

This same dialogue happened when it came time to pick out almost every outfit- what could I wear that covered up all of my ‘bad’ areas?

But then one day I just stopped giving a shit.

I wore that bikini (not having lost any weight from the day I first tried it on) and guess what- it didn’t matter.  No one publicly shamed me or started convulsing at the sight of me. I am pretty sure no one on that beach gave a shit either. And me in that bikini- I felt comfortable. Strike that. I felt sexy. And in that moment I realized how important it was to focus on how I felt in my body and not on how others may perceive me.

From then I switched to tank tops and shorts because guess what? I live in Florida and it is HOT. There is no reason to wear more clothes than the bare minimum when you are working out in the heat.  Isn’t running in August punishment enough???

I stopped caring so much about what others might think about my appearance and started living comfortably in my own skin.

This is not to say that I don’t have moments of criticism or self-judgment as to how I look, just now the only person I think about making comfortable is me.

See, I honestly don’t care if my lumpy thighs or flabby arms bother you.  They don’t bother me and my opinion is the only one that matters.  I was tired of feeling like I had to be a certain size or shape or number in order for parts of my body to be ‘acceptable’- which is just dumb. I am human being. My body serves a million purposes but one of them is not to be pleasing to other people.

Anyway, I don’t really know where I was going with this other than to say that I think we could all benefit by giving less of a shit (not sure if that is the correct way to say that) about what others think of us. Not everyone will like us. Not everyone will accept us. But who cares? All that really matters is that we like and accept ourselves.

Love and hugs,

Dacia

xoxoxoxo