I know I’m good enough, but I had a moment tonight that I felt less than good enough. I felt unworthy, unlovable and well, you know, just not enough. I know that I am, but it’s one of those times when I actually saw myself as I am in a picture and realized, I just don’t like how I look. I’m fatter than the other moms and that makes me feel like less than good enough. I feel like a failure.
Bear with me because we all have that one thing about ourselves that we don’t like. It’s that one thing that we fight all the time and it makes us feel like we have failed not only ourselves, but those we love. For me, it’s my weight. You see, I used to be a tiny person and then I got depressed. It’s a battle for me that I fight every day and I begin to win for a little while until something happens and then I find myself back where I began. Food is my comfort, my addiction and my enemy.
I truly am uncomfortable in my own skin, but I wasn’t always like this. I was a tiny little girl with a very happy childhood. I could eat anything I wanted and never gain an ounce. Then, when I was 13, my nanan died. I was devastated. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my activity level went from 10 to 0 and my addiction to food began. I grieved for well over 2 years and during the first year alone I managed to gain 60 pounds. The weight came on so fast that I had angry red and purple stretch marks on my inner thighs. I went from a size 0 to a 13 and I didn’t care.
I worked hard to lose that weight but since puberty decided to also visit my world at that same time, I managed to lose 25 pounds and there I stayed for several years. My mom used to watch my weight closely and let me know in her own way when I was gaining. I was 125 pounds and 5’3″. I have never seen that weight again since turning 20. At 21, I came home from college at 187 having gained 60 pounds from going away from home for the first time and having anxiety and panic attacks. I lost most of that but again, not all of it.
And so it goes. A few years ago, after suffering from a 2 month long severe migraine attack and some medication that didn’t agree with me, I gained another large amount, but the number of pounds I can’t remember. I decided that I had had enough, so I changed my lifestyle to healthy eating and a walking and running regime. That worked great and 80 pounds went away. I kept that off for nearly 2 years. Until this last 8 months.
I have gone through so much stress in the last 7 months, it’s amazing that I haven’t ballooned more. I have gained 40 pounds in the last 8 months and it makes me so upset. Tonight, we moms of the hair and makeup team got decked out in our 80’s apparel including hair and makeup, of course, and took a few pictures. I envision myself a certain size, so when I see myself in a picture, I really am hard on myself, no matter how hard I try not to be. Why do I do this? I’m working on it, but I’ve battled this for so many years that it’s the hardest battle for me to overcome. This is my biggest character flaw when it comes to dealing with myself.
I looked at that picture and instead of seeing the good, I saw this ugly, fat, lazy woman staring back at me, who was obviously exhausted because her stupid lazy eye was staring the other way. That only happens when I’m tired. I managed to dismiss any good there was or the fun that went into creating the look which was pretty spectacular with it’s spiky hair and headband, heavily applied, bright eyeshadow, bright blush, tie-dyed shirt, slouch socks and stretchy pants. The middle aged woman was frumpy and just embarrassing to look at. Honestly, no wonder my kids think I’m strange. I wiped off some of the shadow, defluffed my hair and just went back to being the fat, fun mom, well I tried to but I admit I felt deflated.
This is my story and I am only one person. This is my battle that I fight within myself everyday. I know that I am enough and that I’m an awesome person no matter if I’m a size 8 or 28, neither of which are my size. I am more than my weight, but my weight is one struggle that gets to me during the best and worst of times and I usually avoid looking at myself because I don’t see the same person looking back at me as the person I envision myself to be. I have to remind myself every single day that I am worthy, and lovable and loved. I am more than enough. This is the only thing that keeps me grounded in reality and reminds me not to look at those numbers and base my beauty on them. My husband and my family view me as beautiful and in the end, that is all that really matters.