Hips Don't Lie
Fact One: I currently weigh more than I ever have in my life.
Fact Two: I’m by far the healthiest and fittest I’ve been in about 15 years.
Despite logic, I still sometimes focus on the former fact. Why? Because I’m no longer a size zero. Or a size two even. And barely squeeze myself into a four when I’m lucky.
This is not a finger pointed, jumping up and down, screaming at society or “beauty” magazines. Placing the blame on a tangential source may mask the root for a short time but ultimately the blame is like a hot potato that is continuously passed from hand to hand. My own finger is pointing at myself. Because I’m the one who does this to me.
Here’s another fact: When I’m happy, Fact Two floats through my mind, smears a grin from ear to ear, and makes me feel proud. But when I’m not, Fact One is out in full force.
Honesty is where the pain lies. And the truth of the matter is that feeling happy and content remains the most important issue. But then judgment and insecurity sneaks in like a demonic seductress. Do I look fat? Maybe people will think that I’ve given up. That I have no self-control. If it’s other people I’m concerning myself with, the people I love, who love me, don’t care that I no longer sport 19 inch thighs. They do, however, care that the vast majority of the time I wear a smile on my face. And the feeling’s mutual.
Conversely, if someone I don’t care for packs on the pounds I will almost certainly judge and make some sort of snarky comment.
So here’s the big dilemma…why do I treat myself like someone I don’t like when I know that it isn’t in my best interest? The fact remains that at the end of the day, my happiness is not derived from narrow hips or whatever arbitrary size is on the inside of my clothing. It comes from so much more than that. Sometimes it’s just a little tricky keeping my facts straight.