So, I had a wee meltdown earlier this week. Actually, it was bigger than wee, more of an intense 3 hour meltdown.
I had another meeting with Weight Wise, first thing on Tuesday morning (yah, who books a Weight Wise meeting the day after Thanksgiving? – me, apparently). I always get myself into a state of anger before I go. Why? Because I’m pissed off that I have to be there in the first place.
I got off the elevator and walked into the waiting room and just stopped. Dead. The whole room was filled with morbidly obese people. I’m talking people in wheelchairs, people who needed walkers, those that could only wear sweatpants because that would be the only thing they could fit into. Part of me was horrified; another part of me felt anger. Horrified because I couldn’t imagine ever being that large, anger because I felt lumped in with these people – there is no WAY I could relate to any of them.
That sounds horribly judgmental of me, doesn’t it? I think what it boils down to, is that I abhor in others what I see in myself.
After finding a place to sit, in the back of the room, I seethed with loathing. A woman sat next to me, who breathed loudly through her mouth and kept belching, and if I’m going to be completely honest – she had the odor of unwashed feet.
OMG, WTF am I doing here? I don’t belong here! I’m nothing like these people!
Oh. Wait a minute. I guess I am, or I wouldn’t be here. I have a weight problem. Some of it is medically related; some of it is my own fault. While I’m not as large as some of these people, I am considered morbidly obese.
That brings tears to my eyes. My mother was obese, my father was overweight – the only one that lucked out in the family was my sister.
I dress well. I have nice clothes and I always put in the effort to look presentable (by that, I mean wearing clean yoga pants instead of paint stained ones in public 🙂 ). Part of the reason I was so angry at the people in the waiting room, was because inside I was yelling ‘I understand that you’re overweight, but why have you given up on yourself?’ I saw people in stained sweats and t-shirts, people who looked (and smelled) like they hadn’t showered for a month and a man who was wearing cut off shorts.
I realize that this sounds judgmental, and maybe it is. I believe, however, that these people have just decided that they’re fat and therefore, they aren’t going to put any effort into their appearances whatsoever. But – maybe this is just my issue. Maybe I need to cut these folks some slack. Maybe, just maybe – they’re not as wrapped up in what they look like as I am.
Maybe – it’s not all about looks – and more about health. Feeling better. Being able to walk pain free. Not having to use walking aids to get around.
I need to get to that place. I need to accept that I need to learn to love my body, fat, warts and all. I need to find a place of peace in my soul that allows me to feel calm and accepting of who I am, right this very minute. Does that mean I’m fine with the way I am? No – what it does mean, is that I can be okay with my body at this moment, but only I can make the appropriate changes to improve it. Which I fully intend to do.
My sister and I were chatting last week and we both realized that our dad had teased us mercilessly as kids. Now, I KNOW he never meant anything hurtful by it – it was never intended to be malicious – but in speaking with my sister, we both understood that his taunts were a part of why we both grew up hating our bodies – we both have SERIOUS issues with how we look and are both very critical on our appearances.
So, my sister and I have signed up for a course called “Be Your Own Beloved” – a course which involves taking a picture of yourself every day during the month of November. I despise having my picture taken because of my size, but I’m embracing this idea and am going to open myself up to try to see myself as others see me, not the distorted, sad and angry person I see when I look in the mirror.
Wish me luck!
(If you’re interested, here is the link to the online course: