What a Scruffy Tree Taught Me About Body Image

...or: Obligatory Holiday Post.

We cut our own tree this year.

My youngest son and I walked out to the side yard in our flannel pajamas and rain boots and picked out a lovely red cedar sapling that was nestled up beside my favorite pecan tree. 

We've run the gamut of Yule trees- real ones and fake ones, store bought ones and some very nice hand-me-down ones. Regardless of the tree, I always wanted it to be "perfect".

It had to have that perfect cone shape.

I wanted all the ornaments to match and have some sort of theme. 

My husband begged me for multi-color lights. My children begged me for fun, festive ornaments. I would always snap "no!" or go get an "alternate" tree for them.

No one wanted to decorate with me. No one got excited. No one felt very festive.

Sure, relatives would come over and go on and on about my lovely tree. How nicely decorated, how full and perfectly shaped. 

Last year was the first year I gave in to multi-color lights. Partly because I wanted my family to enjoy the season and partly because I had lost last year's box of ornaments and lights (this happens to me a lot) and the only lights they had left were multi-color. 

I sort of threw my hands up. "Now's as good a time as any." I bought the lights...

and matching ornaments.

Because I'll be damned if I have a tacky, mis-matched tree.

But this year- we've been so busy with the store- I got way behind on my decorating. I don't know what motivated me to get off the couch and go cut this sucker down, but I did it.

And it was awesome. 

This tree is by no means perfect. It's sparse and weird-shaped and really difficult to wrap with lights Martha Stewart style, but I love this tree.

Every time I look at it, I laugh. I laugh because I think of the comedy of errors it took to get it out of the thicket and into the house. I laugh because I think of how no one else has a tree like this taking up too much space in their living room. I laugh because this tree is a big "fuck you" to the perfect pointed cones lined up like little soldiers at the tree farms.

I laugh because this weird little tree is making me insanely happy right now.

It's making my husband and kids happy.

It reminded my dear, sweet cousin of going to cut trees with her dad when she was a kid.

And this little cedar sapling- proudly adorned with lights and ornaments (a good deal of them hand-made) and my beloved Frau Holle- is standing right in the middle of my living room. Right by the front window. 

It's beautiful because it's special. It makes us happy and we love it. We will celebrate this season of family and togetherness under the warm glow of lights from this dear little tree.

And I hope that I will remember all the lessons I am learning from this simple red cedar.

And I will be beautiful and adorned and loved and different.

Happy Holidays!!

The Other F-Word

FAT

The other F-Word. What images come to mind when you hear this word? What other words come to mind when someone says fat?

Lazy? Unattractive? Smelly? Sickly? Disgusting?

Why has fat become a bad word? I talked about this recently on my facebook page. Some well-meaning folks have come up with the term "no fat talk" to discourage people (women in particular) from negative self-talk. So, answer this for me- why is "fat" a bad word?

It's descriptive. I have black hair. I have blue eyes. I am five-foot-two. I am fat.

That does not make me gross, ugly, undesirable, lazy, or any number of other negative stereotypes that have been associated with that word.

Why is fat automatically associated with bad health? My husband has been fat for a long time. He was fat when I met him in high school and he's fat now. I've given him a hard time about it. I've worried and cried over it, and here's the kicker:

He's healthy.

His cholesterol is normal, his blood pressure is great, he has no sign of diabetes- everything checks out.

I feel like I need to point out that I'm not saying we should all go out and get fat, but I am also suggesting that weight doesn't have to be an indicator of health. I'm not unhealthy because I'm fat. I'm unhealthy because I don't move around enough and I eat a lot of garbage. Thin people can be unhealthy too.

I advocate lifestyle changes for health benefits, not to adjust the number on the scale or fit into a certain size dress.

I encourage women to stop bonding over self-loathing. Stop coming together to talk about food you can't eat because you want to lose weight. Enjoy life. Enjoy food. Enjoy the body you have and stop trying to cram it into some pre-determined mold created by the fashion industry.

Your body deserves for you to love it as it is right now. Treat it like you love it. Show it off, feed it good food, take it somewhere fun.

I am currently doing a lot of reading on the concept of Health at Every Size- which basically is exactly what it sounds like. Some people just aren't wired to be thin, just like some people aren't wired to be fat. At this juncture, I haven't read enough about it to determine how sound the information is, but it's something I'm looking into further.

Regardless, our bodies deserve to be loved and not mistreated. They are amazing!

10 Things

(I'd love to see a little reader feedback on this one, peeps!)

I'm going to name 10 things that I love about myself. Some of them are physical, some of them are not, but either way, they are things about me that are just great, and no one can tell me any different!

1. My Eyes

(Color again, but I'm trying to make a point here)

I have beautiful eyes. I was lucky enough to inherit this beautiful blue from my grandfather.

2. My Hair

I have great hair. It's thick, strong, and healthy. I may get tired of the color every now and again, but I appreciate the fact that it's smooth and shiny, with just a hint of a wave. I also love that I get cute little ringlet curls just at the base of my neck sometimes.

3. I can cook like a MoFo

I don't have a picture for this one, unless you go back and look at other ones of my belly :)

I love good food and I love to try new things. I pride myself on being able to throw down some amazing meals for my family and friends. 

4. My Feet

I don't know if I love them because they are pretty (which I think they are) or because my dad used to rub them when I was little to get me to sleep. As an adult, when I am down or not feeling well, my hubby rubs my feet to make me feel better. When I think of my feet, I think of love. It may sound strange to you, but it makes all the sense in the world to me.

5. My Brains

I'm smart and I think that's great. I've got enough book smarts to hold my own in most conversations (unless we're talking math, then- derp.) and I have a fair smattering of common sense. I love to learn and gobble up as much knowledge as I can.

6. My Sense of Humor

I'm pretty funny, if I do say so myself. I can be dry and witty or as blue and common as any redneck comedy tour. I make my friends laugh when they are down and people want to be around me because I make them happy.

7. My Laughs

Speaking of my sense of humor, I can't forget my laughs. I don't have just one, I have a variety. Everything from a Skeletor cackle to a Hordak snort (seriously- I laugh like He-Man and She-Ra villains sometimes)- how is that not great?! Sometimes I have a nice, big boisterous laugh that fills up a room. All of my laughs are awesome and I don't try to hide them.

8. My Creativity

I love to create things. I love to paint, sew, crochet (fuck knitting), and pretty much do anything else crafty I set my mind to. And you know what? I'm pretty damn good at it. I love looking at cool stuff on Pinterest and being able to recreate it myself. I love how quickly I learn new crafting techniques and seeing the outcome. Of course, my hubby isn't thrilled about the crafting supplies piling up in the house. Sorry, Papa Bear. Love you!

9.  My Parenting Skills

This one is low on the list because every parent has their doubts, but overall- I think I do pretty well. I'm very open and frank with my kids about a lot of things. We've had talks about sex, politics, religion, body image issues, all kinds of things. I love that my kids come to me with tough questions. I'm not the cuddly, coddly mom, but I love my kids fiercely and will fight hard to protect them.

10.  My Writing

I've often been praised by my writing ability, and it took many years for me to believe it. I'm not half bad. I've turned out a few poems that are (I think) pretty decent, and I've always had a knack for writing papers and such. I feel like blogging suits me because it allows me to flex my creative muscles in this area and share my talent with people who appreciate it. 

In Darkness

Today, I'm not struggling with body image issues. Today, it goes much deeper. I'm dealing with feelings of inadequacy.

I don't feel like I deserve to write this blog.

It didn't start with this, of course- but as my depression has been with me all day today, and I don't feel qualified to talk to anyone about positivity.

I'm struggling with all the ways I fall short. I'm struggling to convince myself that the things I'm beating myself up about right now aren't real- aren't true. Maybe by the light of another day, I'll be able to look back on this and wrap myself in a big mental hug. It's been a little while since I've felt like this.

Don't think I'm some long-recovered veteran. I'm struggling through this daily. This blog is a first step, not an end step. This is supposed to by my therapy.

I've always written things down when I was struggling with something. I wrote notes to my friends, bad poems, just anything really, to get my feelings to line up in black and white.

The Militant Baker wrote a great post today on diagramming your shit out when things get overwhelming. I followed her advice, because she is awesome and has helped me a lot before. Part of my "action plan" of thing to do right now was to go back and read my own words- think back on all these positive feedback I've gotten from people who have enjoyed my blog. Also, I told myself that I need to blog about this experience so I can help other people through it (once I was through it myself, of course.)

As I try to write this right now, all I can think is that I don't want you to feel this way. I wouldn't want anyone to feel this worthless and lost, but I can't seem to crawl out from under it right now.

I know that my suffering doesn't lessen yours, and for those who love me and are close to me, I bring them sadness, frustration, and suffering of their own. And that just makes me want to curl into a tiny ball.

Why can't I just break out, when I know that's what would be best? Feel best?  It seems so simple, but it just isn't right now. I can't seem to find the strength to make the effort.

The thing is, it's not just about cheering up and feeling better. I have a problem that requires a solution, and from where I am right now, I can't see one.

Honestly, going back and reading my blog doesn't make me feel better. Right now, it makes me want to tear it apart. It all feels like lies right now.

My face is puffy from crying and my dog is trying to cheer me up

__________________________________________________

This is where I was the other day.

This is truth. This is what happens when I "go dark".

I can't say I'm all the way through it. I still feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, leaning waaaay back, and that all of you are holding onto me, not letting me drop over that edge.

I will admit that answers don't seem forthcoming, and I'm no closer to a solution, but I don't feel so hopeless now. I feel like if there is an answer, I am in a better place to receive and understand it.

I spent a lot of time screaming and crying hysterically, and that didn't help. I tried retreating inward, but that didn't help. I tried blogging, and honestly- that didn't help at the time.

Sometimes people have bad days. Sometimes, people have a couple of bad days in a row.

I know that I haven't experienced my last bad day (wouldn't that be great though?), but I feel like I am coming to the other side of it now, and it didn't defeat me. I don't feel stronger or better, but I am still undefeated- and sometimes, that is enough.

For now, I am staying tentatively positive. I am reminding myself that I am a beautiful, wonderful person. I have a place in this world, surrounded by friends and family.

The Worst Part

I've been thin

I've been fat

And everything in between.

But the worst part for me, regardless of my weight- has always been my face. I've always felt ugly. My friends and I used to play this sick game where we would name a body part (or a facial feature) and say everything that was wrong with it. I was really, really good at that game.

I've told myself a million times that it's okay to be ugly. Some people just are ugly and that's all there is to it.

"With 7 billion people in the world, we don't all get to be good-looking. Some of us have to be monsters. That's just the way it is."

That crock of shit is a direct quote from me, and I still feel this way sometimes.

That kind of deeply etched self-hate doesn't go away quickly.

People can call me fat, people can tell me I'm not as fat as I think I am- those are things I can cope with, but if someone to tells me I have a pretty face, I have to fight the urge to become furious. After so many years of convincing myself that I'm ugly (and trying to convince myself that I'm okay with that) being told that I'm not is very, very hard to hear.

You might think I would be excited to hear someone say I'm pretty, but I don't take it well. I'm learning. I'm getting better. I've gotten to the point where I can say "thank you" to a compliment without grinding my teeth.

I don't tell people that I think I'm ugly because I am fishing for compliments. I said it because I sincerely believed it. I still do some days, but I'm trying to move into a healthier frame of mind. I used to tell myself that I could believe I was ugly and still have a positive body image, but I was lying to myself. I can't feel ugly and accept that as healthy.

This last one isn't black and white (couldn't figure out how to do that with my webcam), but it is me. As I am right this minute, as I type this blog. No makeup, uncooperative hair- just me being me.

And I have to look this girl in the eyes every day and tell her that she is beautiful.

Because I am.

And I deserve it.

No one deserves to feel ugly. I've said it before- the world outside is working very hard to make us hate ourselves and to make us feel worthless. There's no need for us to inflict this pain on ourselves. 

It's not always easy to be kind to yourself- it's easier to be beaten down because so many people are willing to help you do it.

But I'm going to let you in on a secret:

The best people won't.

The best kind of people won't stand idly by and let you tear yourself to pieces. I am very lucky to have some of the best people in my life. 

I want to be one of those people for you. 

I want to be one of those people for me.

If you're struggling with body image and you're here with me, reading this, I want you to know that you are beautiful.

You are beautiful because you are uniquely you. Your life is your gift and your body is the temple in which you get to experience that gift.

Cherish it!

Getting Naked for Cameras (MNSFW)

A few months ago, my best friend and I talked about getting together and doing boudoir photo shoots to make calendars or something to give our hubbies. I immediately ran off to Pinterest to find out how to Photoshop to remove all my cellulite and stretch marks, and to learn what poses would best hide my jiggles and jellyrolls. 

For a myriad of reasons, we never got around to doing that shoot, and now I am posting naked, unedited pictures of myself on the internet. Granted, the audience that views them in their full glory is small, but it's a brave step for me to bare myself to strangers. 

That's beside the point though. The point I was trying to make is how silly it seems to me now to want to take intimate pictures for a man who knows exactly what I look like, and try to alter them. What purpose would that serve? My husband knows all about my fat rolls, my chicken pox scars, and all the other external imperfections that make up the woman he loves. 

Photoshop isn't going to change what he sees when he looks at me. 

I'm going to share with you some of the pictures that he took of me in a photo session a few days ago. I wasn't going to use them for stylistic reasons (didn't like the lighting, angle, backdrop, or my eyes were closed or something to that end), but he liked the pictures because they are of me, he could see all of me, and in some of them, I was smiling. Of course he sexualizes these images, which is something that I have to come to terms with. It's hard for me to imagine that he would rather see pictures of me than of porn stars or other, more attractive women.

It's not because I have a perfect body or because he has perverse taste in women (which I have accused him of and I need to say- honey, I'm sorry. That was mean and uncalled for). It's because he loves me. He has accepted me just the way I am, "warts and all" as the saying goes, and that makes me a very lucky lady.

The Weight of the Thing

I feel like full disclosure is in order. I'm taking weight-loss supplements.

It seems odd to talk about trying to learn to love my body while I am trying to change it. I feel like it's because I'm trying to love my body that I'm trying to do better by it. I don't want to lose weight because I am trying to please someone else. I don't want to lose weight because I am trying to fit someone else's standards of what is correct or beautiful. I want to lose weight because I want to be able to run around with my kids without getting out of breath. I want to be able to hold my husband closer when we make love. I want to stave off medical conditions that are linked with obesity and run in my family.

I lost my grandfather to diabetes when I was 6. He was 49. My step-father (although not related to me) was taken by complications from diabetes at 51. My grandfather didn't get to see me grow up. My stepdad missed my littlest sister's high school graduation by only a few weeks. It's heartbreaking and I don't want my kids to have to go through that if I can help it. 

Weight is a tender issue for a lot of people. None of us ever seem to be at the "right" one. From the pictures you've seen of me so far, you can tell that I am overweight. Classified as obese, actually. Weight is one of the many hang-ups I've had about my body, but the truth of the matter is this:

I hated my body when I was thin too.

Is it possible to talk about accepting and loving your body while working to change it? I like to think so. My motivation now is not to change my body because I hate it, but because I am learning to love it and take care of it. I'm not starving myself. I'm not denying myself.

Exercise feels good. It's not a punishment. Body acceptance doesn't mean disregarding your health. It's about learning to love and care for yourself.

Care for yourself.

Think about someone you love very, very much. Your significant other, your children, your siblings, your friends... anyone you love. If they were sick, hurting, dying, and you had the power to step in and help, wouldn't you?

Now turn that inward.

Body acceptance is as much about mental health as physical health. Self-harm comes in many forms- over-eating, starving yourself, cutting yourself... the list goes on and on.

I'm not telling everyone (or anyone, for that matter) that you must diet or exercise or give up anything. The only thing you must do is love yourself. If loving yourself means taking better care of yourself, giving up harmful habits, or taking on new healthy ones, then so be it. Good for you.

Do what makes YOU happy.

A familiar feeling.

My biggest enemy to self-acceptance is me. 

There are countless people in my life who love me just as I am and that will never change. 

Last night, while lying in bed with my husband, fighting a cold and trying to sleep, the demons that haunt my quiet times came screaming back to life, having only been quiet for a few days.

You're not good enough.

You're useless.

You're a waste of space.

How could someone like you make anyone happy?

These horrible, damaging thoughts are difficult to fight back. When I'm tired and low, it seems impossible to argue. 

After a night of fitful sleep, things don't seem much better, but the whole day is ahead of me. The sun is shining and the world outside is beautiful. I just have to keep reminding myself that I am beautiful too.

Shame, shame.

Think about the words you use when having internal dialogue about your body. 

Think about the words you use when you describe other people.

Are you ashamed of who you are? Are you trying to project shame onto them?

Fat-shaming has been in the news a fair bit lately. Some of you may have heard of "Jacket-Gate", where actress Melissa McCarthy's body is supposedly obscured on the cover of Elle magazine because she is fat.  You may have heard of of the outrage over Maria Kang's "What's Your Excuse?" Facebook post.

Less publicized is the concept of skinny-shaming. In a society where thin is in, the concept of skinny-shaming seems laughable, but it happens. I have done it myself.

Ever seen this come across your Facebook page?

I've seen it. I've probably re-posted it. 

And that makes me a bully. 

I "liked" this because I'm fat and society makes me hate that about myself. I, in turn hate the society. I think about all my fat friends who struggle with weight and body image issues because I can relate to them. When I see things like this, I think "Woo-hoo!! Hooray fat girls!!"

I fail to think about thin people who are being shamed and bullied by comments like this.

And I want to apologize to you from the bottom of my heart. 

Trying to hurt another person because of the shape of their body isn't going to lift me up higher. It's not going to make me feel better about myself. 

It's all about LOVE.

We must learn to love ourselves, just as we are, right this very minute. We must allow other people to love themselves as they are- without judgement. 

If you can't love yourself right now, chances are you never will. If you can't push past the anger and bitterness that lets you tell yourself it is okay to hate people for their body type, I genuinely feel sorry for you.

I am beautiful.

I am just as beautiful at 175 lbs as I was at 96 lbs. I am perfect because I am imperfect. 

I don't deserve to feel shamed or bullied because of my weight, my height, my scars, my scales, or anything else about me. 

And neither does anyone else.

Beautiful.

Hey there, beautiful.

And you are beautiful.

Don't believe me? Ask Jes. See what Jade has to say.

We're perfect because we're not perfect.

We're perfect because we are unique. 

No one can tell my story like I can. My body tells the story of where I come from. 

From the bags under my eyes (which I get from my dad) to my button nose (from my mom), to the scars on my face (chicken pox in 4th grade) and the marks on my belly (two beautiful boys). I am poetry in motion.

And so are you.

I'm not naked today. I'm running a low grade fever and can't seem to get warm, so I'm all bundled up and cuddling my scraggly dog.

My hair is a mess and I'm not wearing any makeup.

And I'm beautiful. Just like this.

Saying that I'm beautiful isn't easy for me, and that's a shame. When my friends can't say they are beautiful; that's a shame too. What makes us feel this way? Why do we attack ourselves?

I know there will be days when things don't go this well for me.

I know that, at least for me, feeling beautiful is hard work. 

That's why here, today, right now- I'm going to say it. And I'm going to believe it.

That way, when I really need it, it will be here. 

And it will be here for you too.

So, listen to me- you beautiful, magnificent creature:

You are fucking beautiful.

Inspiration

Deciding to bare myself for the benefit of others was not a snap, overnight decision.

I've been building up to this. I was finally pushed over the edge by this article:

http://www.nerve.com/love-sex/the-real-nude-vs-the-posed-nude-nsfw

Reading this article led me to the blog BareToBush, which isn't for everyone, let me tell you (NSFW). I'm not sure what it was about that article that made me think "I'm going to post naked pictures of myself on the internet", but that was the final push.

I also read a lot from Jes, The Militant Baker. I think if I lived in Tuscon, we would totally be buds. She's super awesome.

There are a lot of really great people out there, advocating loving yourself as you are for who you are. The world needs people like that. There are so many people waiting to tear us down and break us apart. We need not cheer them on and we certainly don't need to be one of them.

And so it begins....

I've hated my body for a long time. I hated it when it was skinny, it hated it when it was fat. I hated it young, and I hate it now that it's getting older. The problem is, all this hate isn't doing me any good. Hating my body has made hate and anger creep in to other aspects of my life that I don't hate, and that makes me angry.

I wish I could pinpoint where this poor self-image came from, but I don't know. I do know that it has run unchecked for most of my life, and that has to stop.

Not being happy with myself makes my marriage difficult. It hurts my kids. It bothers my friends.

And that hurts me.

Lately, I have been trying to turn things around. I've been trying to learn to love my body. I want to improve it, yes, but I want to learn not to hate it anymore. I am trying to learn to see it as a gift, a work of art, and maybe even that cliched temple people are always going on about. I've been doing body image exercises to learn to become comfortable with myself. This blog is an extension of that.

Here, I will air my grievances. Here, I will talk about my struggles and insecurities.

Here, I will post pictures of myself and the body I am trying to learn to love.

This is not an easy picture to post. This is my belly in all its glory. My babies grew here and I bear the scars. Jackson like to lay his head on my tummy and tell me how soft it is. This hurts my feelings because I don't want to be soft and fat, but to my son, it's beautiful. 

My breasts also bear "tiger stripes". They are large and scarred, but my husband loves them. They nursed my children. They hurt my back. One of them bears a large scar from heart surgery I had when I was three. I've often talked about wanting to get them reduced or lifted, or having implants so they would be the same size.

I need to learn to appreciate the folds and rolls. The scars and dimples. They are as much a part of me as my sense of humor, my boisterous laugh, the way I pout when I cry. This body tells a very unique story. 

This body is a gift.