So, it's like this. For most of my life I didn't know that I was allowed to like myself. You read that right. I.didn't.know.I.was.allowed. I could go on and on here but, I have a therapist named Elena for that. Short story: IMHO, most fat girls who came of age in the 90s weren't valued very highly. We weren't, please don't argue with me. We were fuckable but not dateable. Most boys would never admit to being attracted to someone who couldn't shop at 5-7-9. There are a LOT of late 30somethings and early 40somethings who know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. It messes with your head. Pretty...if she wasn't so fat. Where does the blame lie? Not sure. Probably not even worth wading through mud to figure out. It wasn't even their fault. They weren't allowed to love us. It just was the way that it was. And now? We've been enlightened and it sort of feels like we're making headway. To be clear I had a VERY positive high school experience. I loved HS and I really, really liked boys. I just wish things had been a little different in this area. Ok, I wish it had been a lot different - anyway... And now? I know it's ok to like myself. It's cool. Whatever. Women who are going to be 40 in the year 2016 get to like themselves - so says the world. Actually, I've liked myself for quite a while. I fell in love with my fat self in 2008 and it was ok - no one died or was hurt or maimed. In fact, the world remained perfectly unaware that my world changed. I changed. It wasn't a resolution, or a diet, or a disease, or a major life event that turned the light on. It was a momentary suspension of disbelief that created a chain reaction of self-actualization. The more I practiced worthiness, the more real it felt. My foundation of self-doubt had begun to show signs of weakness, and buckled under the weight of that worthiness. I wasn't immediately healed or fixed, it was more like seeing the White Rabbit, chasing it - and falling into Wonderland. Many things were strange, many things were wonderful and beautiful and I was confused a lot. I didn't know how to behave as a person who liked herself. It wasn't always graceful. I was awkward. I stumbled a lot. But I learned. Instead of hating on my body I discovered that I really had quite a talent in dressing beautifully. I didn't hide myself in baggy clothing. I wore what made me feel good. I wore color. I spent money on myself - I took care of myself. I was worth it. But simultaneously my self-worth issues took up new residence. I became unsteady and unsure of my abilities. I constantly criticized myself, my impulsive nature, my inability to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I questioned my intelligence and that was monumentally heartbreaking. New foundations built upon the rubble of old, are vulnerable. I spent some years vacillating between struggle and success. Working on my foundation - identifying problem areas ahead of a crisis at times, other times figuring it out on the fly - emergency style. I've been through a lot of changes since 2008. Some of it is common knowledge, some is extremely private. Turning 40 feels, what I imagine turning 21 must feel like. At 21, I felt like a very old woman. A very old woman who didn't realize she was something great. I've got a lot of plans for this, my 40th year - I'm going to take a dance class and get a new gorgeous tattoo. I'm going to challenge my body & do some sort of obstacle race. I'm going to do a shoot with Zinfandel Photography - maybe. I'm going to volunteer and climb mountains, and go on trips with people I love. Not because I feel like 40 is some magical number where you do important shit, no. Because truly, this is my time. And also, I'm turning 40. I tell stories. I connect. It's how I operate. If you're still reading this - thank you. I hope you'll celebrate 2016 in your own special way regardless of milestone. In fact, I hope you celebrate with me. I'm really glad to be alive.
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July 2018
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