The Butt Stops Here

Hello... It's me.

I said I would write now and again whenever I felt something.  Well, I'm feeling something right now.  Could just be gas or indigestion - who knows?  I'll give it a go.

 A few weeks ago I was standing at the deli counter at Target and I glanced at the woman next to me.  She was wearing an oversize hoodie, yoga pants and had no make-up on - what I affectionately like to call my "Target uniform".  She was looking down in all seriousness as if the weight of all the ham in the world was on her shoulders and I could tell that she, like many of us there, had no interest in grocery shopping and was clearly having a shit day.  What I also noticed was that she had the most beautiful, thick, long, natural eyelashes I had ever seen.  So I told her so.  Her face brightened right before my own short, stubby lashed eyes.

I was recently at the gas station where I ran into a woman who had the coolest, raddest (is that a word? Most rad? whatever), edgiest, short hair style ever.  I've always wished I could pull off a short cut like that.  One of the last times I tried pulling off a super short cut it was in the age of Duran Duran and my uncles kept singing "Wild Boys" to me every single time they saw me.  I grew it out. Anyway, I told this woman that I adored her hair and it was so flattering on her.  Her hand flew to her head and she made a few comments about just having worked out and then gave me a stunning smile.  I think her name was Rio.

I often feel compelled to compliment women where I see them most, which is in the locker room.  However, that can border on a bit of skeeviness so I'm careful.  The other day I saw a woman in there wearing THE cutest knit sweater dress, tights and boots.  My average day starts in stretchy pants, proceeds to stretchy gym pants and then ends in stretchy pajama pants after my shower so I love a cute outfit when I see one.  Since she was still dressed I figured it would be ok to say something so I did.  She smiled and excitedly told me all about how she found it at Savers and it only cost her $10 with the tags still on (the last three words spoken with the reverence only a person who enjoys second hand things will understand).

I try to do this stuff as much as I can and I fully admit it's out of selfishness.  Looking for the beauty in other people helps me.  Not that any of us are required to be beautiful for anyone else but still.  If I can see beauty in other people in all sorts of ways then maybe they can see it in me, too.  And when I give a compliment to a woman and I know I mean it perhaps I can improve upon my own ability to accept a compliment at face value.

So just a couple of days ago I saw a girl working out at the gym with an extraordinary rear end.  I mean it was glorious.  Amazing, in fact.  And to top it all off she had gorgeous eye lashes.  How is that fair?  I mean, my butt is ok.  It's perfectly adequate for what I use it for.  It looks good in a pencil skirt and my old man digs it.  But if I was at the Ass Store this is the one I would point to in the glass case while I politely asked the sales associate, "Excuse me, I'd like to see this one, please."  It was my dream ass.

I would totally shop here.  I don't even care what they sell.

I wanted to compliment this young woman on her fantastic posterior but, speaking of skeeviness, this is starting to enter that zone.  That zone of unwelcome attention for a body part or trait.

I once was told I had the perfect phone sex voice.  Except it was told to me by my manager as an explanation after I took a business call that didn't end well. I had prepared a job quote for a man who ended the conversation by asking for my measurements instead of asking me questions about the work I did because I just had THAT voice.  Thus 20 year old Cassidy learned how women aren't always taken seriously in a male dominated field and a compliment isn't always a compliment.  I digress.

So I wanted to tell this woman she had a really great ass and well done.  But maybe she doesn't want to hear about her ass.  Maybe she's gotten a lot of unwanted attention for her rear end.  Perhaps she's been harassed because of it.  Or maybe she just doesn't want some random stranger commenting on it because, honestly, we have the right to not want to hear commentary about our bodies.  Not to mention that complimenting someone on their ass is getting into that territory of sexualization.  I mean, I wouldn't go up to a stranger and say, "Nice tits."  I would do that to one of my close friends, though. That's different and would probably include a boob grab or a chest bump but I promise I do have limits.

Side note to the gentlemen who may have stumbled across my blog: If I, as a heterosexual female, have to think long and hard about whether a compliment to another woman about her body could be deemed inappropriate or even as sexual harassment, you may want to give a second thought or seven before you say some of the stuff that comes out of your mouths to random women and then expect to receive gratitude and blushing giggles in return.  Just a suggestion.

I opted out of saying anything to her.  Did I overthink it?  Yes, I did.  As is my way.  But hemming and hawing usually helps me err on the side of caution and I'm ok with that.  If I see her again perhaps I'll try the lash one again and covet her butt from afar.

I left the weight room floor and went back to the locker room where I gathered up my stuff, set it on the counter and started drying the sweat into my hair like a damn lady when I noticed another woman walk over and stand near me, just a few feet away right by the entrance to the locker room.  I've had conversations and dealings with this woman before and without knowing any specifics or details about her I would have to guess that she has some special needs or is somewhere on the spectrum (disclaimer: I say this having experienced a child who is on the spectrum and not with any medical knowledge at all).  This particular woman tends to walk around the locker room in the nude and every time I see her I think, "She has absolutely no fears about her nudity or body.  I wish I was like that." As she stood near the entrance to the locker room a staff member walked in and, well, I'll just share the email I sent off to this person's manager.


Ms. <name redacted>,

I'm a member at the gym and there was an incident that occurred there yesterday right about 5pm that I feel compelled to inform you about.

I was in the locker room drying my hair across from the sinks.  An older woman who is at the gym almost every day was standing near the paper towels right near the entrance to the locker room.  From my previous experiences and conversations with this woman, I believe she may be special needs or at the very least a vulnerable, older adult.  She also has no qualms with walking around the locker room in the nude, as is her right to do in the privacy and safety of the women's locker room.  She was nude as she stood next to the paper towel dispenser.

As I was standing there one of your employees, <name redacted>, walked in and came face to face with this woman.  <Name redacted> walked past her and through the other set of doors into the bathroom area.  A few moments later she walked back through and exited the locker room.  I packed up my bag and left shortly after her where I saw <name redacted> talking to one of the trainers. The portion of the conversation that I heard was, "You just can't unsee some things, you know?" followed by a lot of laughter.

She proceeded to walk towards the front desk just in front of me and at least 15-20 feet from the front desk she called out to the young girl working there and said,  "I need some eye drops right now.  I need eye drops to wash out what I just saw in the locker room.  Guess who I just saw..." and then she whispered in the girl's ear.  The girl reacted with horror and laughter and said, "Oh no!"

Now, there's a chance that she wasn't talking about this lady.  A very, very small chance.  But given the timeline of what happened and me immediately following her out of the locker room I am absolutely certain this person is who <name redacted> was talking about.  And I find it reprehensible.

Just a few short years ago I worked at a gym.  I taught group fitness classes and I was a personal trainer.  I taught Silver Sneakers regularly.  I managed the group fitness department and I was the location manager for that location.  I know exactly what sensitivity should be demanded of employees.  I know for certain how important membership is to a gym.  And, just as a human being, I know how people should be treated, especially as an older, vulnerable adult.  Imagine how disappointed I was to find out that <name redacted> isn't just a staff member.  She's the Operations Manager.

I'm thankful that I was the one that heard <name redacted>'s comment and not another member.  I've been a very active advocate for body positivity and helping people trying to find their own value and worth as a motivation to taking care of their own health and fitness. I know many people who don't even want to go to the gym for fear of being ridiculed for their bodies or their weight.  Those are the same people who should feel the most safe and welcome at a fitness institute when they are trying to better themselves.  Thank God it wasn't someone like that who heard <name redacted>'s comments and never wanted to go back to the gym.  I worry that she'll make future comments about other members, however, and do real damage.

I like this location.  I've had really good experiences with several members of the staff up front.  I hope that, at the very least, you can have a discussion with your OM to ensure that those kind of disgusting comments will not be directed at one of your paying members again.  She should be leading the much younger staff by example and frankly, I'm ashamed of what she's teaching them right now.

I would like to at least know that you received this email and have heard what I've had to say and plan to address it.  If you have any further questions or concerns I would be happy to talk to you any time.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Cassidy


The juxtaposition of these two events, my worry over giving an inappropriate but well meant compliment and this horrible example of body shaming, just minutes apart, was mind boggling.  While I still believe I made the right choice in not commenting on this young woman's rear end I believe wholeheartedly that we need much more praise in our lives, especially as women.  We need to stand on the same side and remind each other that we are ok just as we are.  That we are beautiful and worthy and deserving of taking care of ourselves.  That there are things that are special about each one of us.  And we need to defend those who are being told they are less than.

I concede that I don't do everything with altruistic intentions.  When I praise another person I also do it in the hope that I can start to praise myself more.  When I stand up for another person, like I tried to do in this instance, I also do so in the hopes that I can learn to stand up for myself.  The fact is, it's so much easier for me to do these things for someone else than myself but I'm trying.  I'm learning.  I'm practicing.

If you can't do it for yourself right now practice doing it for someone else.  I promise you this: when you give someone a compliment or a voice when they so clearly need it the rewards are innumerable.  To see some random stranger who looks stressed and anxious, just like the rest of us, look up with a glow in their face and give you such a genuine smile in thanks?  Well, that's just everything right there.

Try it.  Repeatedly.  There's your homework.  And you have plenty of time because the indigestion has passed and there's no telling when I'll write again.

Blue Monday

I meant to get a blog done (finally) and have it ready for you before New Years Day.  Then I meant to have it done a few days later.  And then a day after that.  But well, you know, life.  It just happens.  I've had so many topics I have wanted to write bouncing around in my head that I fear they may now be all jumbled together and vomited from my brain in one big pile of wordy crap.  You're welcome in advance.

I'm actually glad I haven't had time to write until just this moment.  This morning as a sipped my coffee, used my five pointless Candy Crush lives and watched the Today show I learned that it was the most depressing day of the year.  Wow.  Why wasn't I told? Blue Monday they call it.  It's supposed to be the third Monday of January but some asshole somewhere must have got the wrong memo and bumped it up a couple of weeks.  I wasn't even prepared.

Well, that's not true.  Where I live our entire state was enduring a freak out of epic proportions I like to call Coldpocalypse 2014.  With windchills at -40 degrees and colder all the schools were shut down by the governor.  You know this was supposed to be the first day back after a two week winter break, right?  I'm done with togetherness and, frankly, so are my boys.  By 10:00am I was threatening these two adolescents with the punishment of organizing my underwear drawer if they didn't get their shit together and stop beating on each other or screaming.  Today was an Ice Blue Monday.

Why the depression in January?  I think there are a lot of reasons for it.  Long, cold days.  Seasonal depression. The relative slowness and inactivity after the craziness of the holidays.  The lack of something to look forward to.  But I think there is more to it than that.

Let's go back to Christmas Day.  I spent the entire day with my family relaxing, opening presents and enjoying our time together (until it was time for me to make dinner and then it was panic time since every year I forget I do not own double ovens).  It was a wonderful day. And much like last year I woke up the next morning in a bit of a funk.  I was feeling like a sorely needed fruits and vegetables and I was exhausted from the last minute play calls I had to make to even pull off the holiday at all.  But thanks to the daily body gratitude challenge I was participating in on my blog's Facebook page I was able to combat those feelings that I normally have about my body, post-holiday, pretty easily.  Unfortunately, my Facebook friends didn't fare so well. 

On Christmas I saw post after post of well wishes, glad tidings, happiness, family togetherness, great food and celebrations and just overall - JOY.  That all changed the very next day.

Every post I saw was along these lines:

"I need to get back on track."

"God, I'm so fat today."

"I can't believe I ate so much."

"The diet starts now."

"Nothing fits today."

"I feel disgusting."

It made me so sad.  The shift from joy to self-loathing was almost tangible.  I've been working so hard on keeping those kinds of thoughts at bay for myself and there they all were in the form of statuses from all my beautiful friends.

And this is the frame of mind that people are in when they make New Year Resolutions?  This is the feeling they are to be inspired to make change from?  I've already tried to explain why real lasting change will NEVER come from a place of non-acceptance.  I promise you - it won't work.  This is why I started the Body Gratitude Challenge in the first place.  It's normal to want a fresh start each year and to have new goals but I truly believe there is merit to entering the new year with love, gratitude and acceptance as your backbone before you initiate change.

Blue Monday 2014 happens to be the first Monday after New Year's Day.  This is the day that many start their resolutions, often fueled by this aforementioned self-loathing.  They're creating lists of all their "can't haves" and "must dos". Or worse, they are already a few days into their resolution and have already decided they have failed.  Depressing, indeed.

I wish only one thing for you in the new year.  If you must make changes in your lifestyle do so not to make yourself less but because you deserve so much more.  You deserve to be healthy.  You deserve to feel strong.  You deserve to make time for yourself.  You deserve to love yourself.

I made a couple of resolutions that have nothing to do with my weight or fitness level and everything to do with how I feel about my body.  While I have a lot of things I want to do and experience and achieve I wanted to name a couple of very quantifiable things that I could work on.  First, I'm going to continue on my path of taking back the power from the camera.  I feel very comfortable at this point with having my picture taken by a professional but it's the "selfies" and candid photos that scare me and have made me absent from my family's memories.  So, I have vowed to take more photos of myself and even post them "out there" in the interwebs.  In fact, I've committed to taking 30 days of selfies and even posting some of them in an effort to make the camera old hat.  I have some Facebook friends who have agreed to join me in this experiment and together I am hoping we can take some of the emotion out of photo avoidance and perfectionism so we can be more present.

I think selfies, as irritating and ridiculous as they can be, resonate with people. I decided to throw caution to the wind and start fulfilling my goal by posting a pic of me, post-workout, no make-up and tons of swass, right on my Facebook page in a post about sustainability.  Imagine my shock when it became the most viewed thing I've ever put on my page. By A LOT.  People want to see real pictures.  They want to see things they can relate to.  After I recovered from my vulnerability overdose I felt a change.  A shift in where I want to go with this blog.  I've struggled recently with my intentions and direction but I've got it now.  All because I posted a picture of myself in my sweaty clothes.

Did you know that the Word of the Year in 2013 was "selfie"?  It's true.  Because, regardless of what you say, you know you love them.  (Or you are lacking in photo buddies to hold the camera.)  Every one needs to selfie once in awhile.

(source)

A friend of mine suggested that rather than coming up with a New Year's Resolution she was going to pick a word or theme for the year.  I have my theme already.

Sustainability

It's not fancy.  It's not bedazzled.  It's not full of "lose 10 pounds in 5 days" or "blast that belly" promises.  Sustainability is real.  It's relatable.  It's bare faced and full of swass.  Sustainability is where it's at.  It's the word for 2014.  I promise.

I know we are already knee deep in resolutions and I wish I could write everything I'm thinking tonight but I can't so I'm going to divide it up.  I'm going to address the topic of sustainable change in relation to self-worth and body confidence over the next few blogs so you can see what I'm working on and what I'm hoping to achieve.  If it helps you, wonderful!  If not, maybe you'll get some duck lips out of the deal.

For now, I want to wish you a very Happy New Year and I'd like to post an oldie but a goodie.  Whatever changes you want to make in 2014 or whatever goals you hope to achieve, make sure they are in line with this Body Pledge I hope you'll take with me.

Miss Understood

Yesterday I had a conversation with someone who referenced my comments on Facebook regarding an article I shared.  She said it was no wonder I was having trouble with a former colleague.  I was telling everyone to get larger while he wanted everyone to come in to the gym to get smaller.

Wait - what?  I don't recall saying that.  I do recall saying I would never again apologize for the space I take up and if you didn't like it you could move your ass over.  But telling everyone to get larger?  What?

In her defense I know she was just kidding around.  But it got me wondering if perhaps I'm coming off the wrong way.  When I say that I'm not going to make myself "small" anymore do people think I'm talking about my size?  Because I'm not.

I don't give exercise advice here because it's no longer my job to do so and you can find just about anything you want to know on the internet already written by smarter people than me (and some not so smart).  In addition, what's right for me is not necessarily right for you.  Same with nutrition.  I'm not going to tell you what to eat.  I'm not going to write a specific diet out for you.  Because, frankly, I don't believe in that.  I once had a trainer try to give me a diet to follow that seriously listed items such as: 4 raw green beans, 7-9 almonds, 6 pieces raw broccoli, protein shake.  Are you fucking kidding me?  What I eat may not be what you want to eat and I'm not about to tell you to eat something you don't like.  Seriously - have you met me?  I firmly believe food should be pleasurable.  I do have some pretty definite feelings on both issues and if you ever wanted to really talk about it I would be happy to give my opinion but that's not what this blog is about.

From the beginning of this blog I have been about one thing - making peace with my own body.  Whether that leads me to wearing a smaller size someday or not, that is my goal.  It was my entire bucket list in my last blog.  But maybe people aren't smelling what I'm cooking here.  Maybe I'm not making any sense. Maybe I've become a misheard lyric.

Oh my God.  I'm Tony Danza.

Body Acceptance.  That's what I'm talking about.  But I'm starting to wonder if people think I'm talking about Fat Acceptance instead.  There is a movement online that's gaining momentum for Fat Acceptance and I think it's a fabulous thing.  I think the pain, harassment and prejudice that people of any size larger than average endure is unacceptable.  I think people should not be ashamed of their weight and deserve to love their bodies. But I'm not actually talking about Fat Acceptance because my feelings go so much further than that.  I don't care if you are overweight or underweight.  I know for a damn fact that you have battled body shame at one point or another in your life, regardless of weight, and every single one of us can benefit from Body Acceptance.  Every single one of us.

But what does Body Acceptance mean?  I think for many there is a belief that if you accept your body as it is right now that you are admitting defeat.  You are giving up.  You are lazy.  You are unmotivated.  You are making excuses.  But I'm about to lay down some truth on you and tell you why they're wrong.

Before I do that, you should know that I struggle sometimes with really slowing down and meditating on things.  I think it's because I get way too emotional.  I like to lift heavy stuff and I like to box.  I have not really connected with yoga yet and that's probably because the whole two classes and one meditation I've been to made me bawl like a baby.  Today I am going to get all Zen up in this bitch.

I've considered learning more about Buddhism many, many times.  I've been so turned off by religion from lifelong experiences that this "philosophy" really appeals to me. To lead a moral life; to be mindful and aware of thoughts and actions; to develop wisdom and understanding.  I can get on board with that without all the traditional religious dogma.  However, aside from the fact that I'd probably get kicked out of both branches of Buddhism for continually repeating this entire scene from Caddyshack by heart, I didn't get very far in much of the teachings.  It seems the first of the Five Precepts of Buddhism is to avoid killing or harming living things.  Houston, we have a problem.

Imagine my surprise while trying to do some research on Body Acceptance that one of the most fabulous things I came across was a Dharma talk by Tara Brach, author and leading western teacher of Buddhist meditation, emotional healing and spiritual awakening.  Her talk, Genuine Acceptance, is definitely worth a listen on your own but I'll share some of the information that I found most beneficial.

First, let's talk about what acceptance is.  Tara defines genuine acceptance as "recognizing the truth of this moment without resistance.  With openness."  She says acceptance is an active, engaged process - not passive.  It's not lazy or giving up. It's an intention.  "Acceptance is in this moment how you are relating to the reality that's right here."  Essentially a state of heart/mind with absolute non-resisting presence.  The opposite of acceptance is "any moment that we are trying to manipulate our experience."

Tara goes on to say that there are three major archetypal challenges to acceptance that we are programmed for.  Fight-Flight-Freeze.  When we fight acceptance we push it away, we judge or blame.  Fight is full of "shoulds".  How do I apply this to the idea of body acceptance?  We judge ourselves for our own bodies or we get mean and spiteful over other bodies. (No one does the latter better than a woman.)  We "should" ourselves into a long list of restrictions and demands to try to change it.  And we beat the tar out of ourselves, emotionally and physically, in an attempt to get smaller.  Flight, in regards to acceptance, is about ignoring, denying and tensing against it to avoid pain.  I think this is where we distract ourselves with whatever method of pain relief we have. Mine is often food.  It's where we avoid truly looking in the mirror and going out and living life.  It's where we skip big events in our lives for fear of what someone else will think of our weight gain.

Freeze is more difficult for me to put a finger on.  She says that it's a "doormat in the guise of acceptance".  It's pretending acceptance when we've really just stuffed it under.  Perhaps this is where I was when I thought I had it beat and had it all figured out.  At my lightest weight and highest muscle mass and teaching classes and training clients all week and being a "role model" and "inspiration" for obesity turned fit.  Maybe that whole time when I thought I had all my shit figured out I was really just frozen.  Must have been. "If you push it under it always comes out sideways." Indeed.

Tara says that the Buddha's inquiry when life happens or when we struggle is how to find that liberating quality of non-resistant presence so that we can respond, not react.  The basic teaching in the spiritual tradition is that "wise behavior arises out of an accepting presence".  What's the difference between responding versus reacting?  Take for instance a child who has just gotten into trouble. (Not that I would know anything about this.)  I had an opportunity just this week to sit down with my child after getting a call from the school and discuss some serious topics.  Keep in mind that I had several hours to process everything and deal with my emotions but I can tell you that responding to his issue from a place of love and acceptance - knowing that maybe what happened was just merely a result of him not having all the pieces to put together in his mind - rather than reacting from a place of anger and judgment made all the difference in the world to the results we got from him.  He understood.  He responded and he was willing to change.  Parenting for the win!

In relation to the body, can you imagine how it feels to come at yourself from a place of rejection and reacting solely to that emotion.  Of course you can.  We all do it.  Sometimes even daily.  Now imagine coming at yourself from a place of whole-hearted acceptance and then responding. Of really taking in where we are in this moment, staying with it and feeling it, without judgment and thought, until we can respond with love and inevitably heal.  Doesn't that sound like a better method?  If are willing to treat our children that way why can't we approach our own selves in that manner?

Famous psychologist, Carl Rogers, once said, "It wasn't until I accepted myself just as I was in this moment that I was free to change."  Acceptance is the precursor to true transformation - accepting ourselves in this very moment.  Resignation is quitting or giving up - feeling defeated.  Don't confuse the two when I say I am working on body acceptance.

Am I able to make this change to acceptance all at once?  Of course not.  I struggle daily.  It's an active effort to steer my thoughts and feelings in the right direction and be at peace with who I am in the present.  I resist on those days I run into someone at my new gym who knew me at my lightest and I feel like I have to explain myself.  I resist when my clothes don't fit anymore or when someone talks about a certain clothing size being their "OMG I can't go back to that" size and it's the size I'm wearing right now.  And I freeze sometimes when looking in the mirror and wonder why I let myself get to this point again. (All of these things have just happened in the last few days.) But I make the intention every single day to come at myself with love and acceptance for who I am in this very moment.  It's all I can do.  And I make a little progress each and every time.

Tara Brach says that in it's purity, genuine acceptance "is no different than love.  The space that accepts is a loving space."  She doesn't say that it's easy, however.  It's going to be difficult because we are programmed to fight, flee or freeze.  It's going to take tremendous effort to arrive in that place.  That sure doesn't sound like giving up to me, though.  Maybe my pants size is larger than it used to be and maybe I'm not working out 6-7 times a week anymore but I'm not giving up.  What I am trying to do is not pretend acceptance like I did before, only to have it wreak havoc on me again.  This time it's for real and that's why I am not preaching about how you should move or what you should eat or how to get smaller.  I believe that if you truly love yourself in the form of absolute acceptance then you will RESPOND by caring for yourself in the healthy manner in which you and your body deserve.

We are all born loving and accepting ourselves just as we are.  Life changes that in so many different ways but I have to believe it's still inside me and I can find it again.  The American spiritual teacher, Gangaji, wrote, "Opening to whatever is present can be a heartbreaking business. But let the heart break, for your breaking heart only reveals a core of love unbroken."  I'm going to find that love again.

Since beginning this blog and it's Facebook page I have repeatedly used the phrase, "Love first, change second."  If you keep up with me you'll see it again. It's still my mantra. Who knew I was so fucking Zen already?

Dorothy, you've had the power all along.

Liar Liar, Pants on Fire

So...um... it seems we need to talk.  I haven't been completely honest.  I know since I've started this blog we've talked a lot about the F (fat) word and I've lead you to believe a few things about myself.  I'm here to confess today even if it means losing a little credibility in that department.  So here goes.

I'm a liar. 

I've told you that I have battled my weight my entire life.  That I was a fat kid and that I have always struggled.  I've told clients that I don't really remember ever being a normal weight.  And then my aunt decided to text me, probably in a drug induced pain medication stupor, an old picture a few days ago.  "You weren't fat, Cass.  Here's the proof."

See that girl on the right with the purple terry cloth tank top, skinny legs and massively thick hair that looks like a brown football helmet?  Yeah, that's me.  Normal sized.

The picture has to be before 5th grade so at most I'm 9 here.  Other than the obvious lack of puberty I can tell the timeline because we are on my grandmother's driveway.  Two of my uncles, an aunt and my future uncle-in-law are visible.  I can't be sure if it's before or after the time I fancied myself a skate boarder and took that skate board to the top of the hill in our neighborhood, though given the amount of skin I still have on my arms I'm guessing it's before.  I also see my grandmother's future step-daughter in the picture which means it won't be long before my entire family moves away and I go to another school where I know no one.  Also, I think I see a thumb-war going on but that's neither here nor there.  The entire point is that for at least 9 years in my life I was of a normal weight.

My aunt has made me the Milli Vanilli of bloggers.  Girl, you know it's true.

My first reaction to the picture was, "Wow, I actually was skinny at one point."  My next reaction was tears.  Keep in mind that I had just been through an excruciating work week of probably 65-70 hours at my computer.  I had a bit of a breakdown last week while feeling overwhelmed with my job, kids and my general lack of caring for myself properly.  I haven't been eating the greatest.  I've certainly had no time to workout in forever. (Or, more accurately, I should say I haven't taken the time away from my other obligations.) This breakdown happened the night before I was to have my 5 month follow up appointment with my surgeon and knowing how little I've cared for myself lately and how abhorrent the idea of taking off my clothes for "after" pictures was for me I broke down and said some horrible things to myself in front of my husband.  One of these things was calling myself a "fat fuck" which makes me a double liar now because I promised to not talk that way to myself anymore.

So anyway, it's been a shitty couple of weeks.  But the reason I teared up when I saw the picture is that I saw my battle with weight as a betrayal to my body that started as a normal, healthy size.  I did this to me.  I wasn't always like this.

It's funny how skewed our own views can become of our bodies.  Being overweight has become such a prominent part of my life, such a huge element in how I think and feel and remember things that I have actually created a prequel to my fat in my own head that never existed.  For the most part I can tell you my weight from almost every year of my life.  Except for the ones where I wasn't overweight.  Huh.  I wonder why that is?

I can tell you that when my extended family moved away and my mom and I moved to another home that this is where my weight gain started.  I'm guessing I felt the absence of the only family I had ever known, my equivalent to brothers and sisters, and the pressure of starting at a new school.  I stayed inside with my great-grandmother after school and watched game shows with her and I must have snacked a lot though I don't remember doing so.  I do remember being weighed in school a year later in 6th grade and being horrified and embarrassed of my weight , I think for the first time, when it was read aloud and charted. 103.5 lbs, 5'-0".  I was over one hundred pounds?  None of the other girls were.

No wait.  I do remember the first time I was ever aware of my weight being a problem.  It was the summer before 6th grade so a full year after everyone moved.  My mom sent me out to visit my family in South Dakota for several weeks.  It was a trip full of fun and new adventures and some terrifying things for this suburban girl suddenly living out in the woods of the Black Hills.  But one of the things I remember most (other than falling about 12 feet out of a tree house, camping out in a lean-to on a hill and seeing my first and only Sturgis motorcycle rally) was playing "spy" with my uncle, Dereck, who is 12 days younger than me and was like my brother. He had rigged up some walkie-talkies so that one was in the "talk" position and hid it in his mother's (my grandmother's) room.  What he didn't know is that she was in there talking to a friend about me.  I listened to her say, "Well, I'm glad Cassidy finally grew in to her head but I didn't expect her to get THAT big so fast."  That's my first real memory of being ashamed of my size.  I don't know why, in later years, I've assumed my shame about my weight went farther back than that.  And, yes, I did have a large head. Still do.  These brains take up a lot of space and this hair wouldn't fit on a tiny head.

I don't think I ever have a really clear idea of what I really look like.  I'm always skewing it somehow.  Sometimes I think I'm looking like hot shit and then I'll see a picture of what I really looked like that night and scare the crap out of myself.  Is this like a reverse body dysmorphia?  Most of the time I think I look worse than I do and that I look much bigger than I do.  I'm kind of ashamed to admit this but as I was losing weight I would make my husband play a game with me whenever we went out.  It was kind of a "Is she bigger or smaller than me?" game except no one really wins.  I wasn't asking to put other women down.  I was truly trying to change the picture in my head because to me I was and always would be 308 lbs.  My brain had so much catching up to do to match my shrinking body and sometimes this game helped.  Sometimes it didn't (see previous "hot shit" days).  The one who consistently lost the game was probably my husband.  Poor guy.

Now you don't even need to play the game with someone else.  If you really want to see a plethora of body shapes and sizes at your weight you can go to My Body Gallery, type in your stats and see women from all over the world.  The idea is that seeing all the variety that there is in the world will help women see their own bodies more clearly and I think it could be useful as long as you don't get down on yourself for not looking like some of the women there.  Interesting note: when I put all my information in I got "No Results Returned".  We aren't going to talk about that right now.

There is a name for this skewing and it's called "Normative Discontent" or body image dissatisfaction.  It's the little sister to Body Dysmorphic Disorder and it's often fueled by unrealistic expectancies, pressure in the media to look a certain way and eating disorder-type thinking.  I think it's just a fancy name given to what almost all women and a lot of men struggle with regarding their own self-image.

About an hour after my aunt sent me the "skinny" picture an old Weight Watcher friend of mine posted the only "full body" picture of herself.  She posted it because it was taken with a dear friend of hers and she wanted to share it, albeit with reservation.  She said "after a grievous refatting a few years ago" she had a "lot invested in not letting anyone see how bad I really look."  She also spoke of shame and you know that's a hot button for me.  She said, "This is me and my gorgeous friend. I'm the fat one."  But you know what?  She looked normal to me.  Skinny?  No.  Normal?  Healthy?  Happy?  Beautiful?  Yes.  My favorite part was when one of her friends said, "your body doesn't match how you often portray yourself as some freaking linebacker with the body dimensions of a refridgerator."  She totally nailed her on that one.  That's exactly how she speaks about herself.

And then I realized that's exactly how I speak about myself, too.  And her posting that full-body picture really put my own little picture freak out in perspective.  

I've been actively trying to change the way I think about my body.  I really have - I'm not lying about that.  I work on my inner dialogue.  I am careful of what information ends up in my inbox and I'm following some fantastic women online that are in synch with my current goals of body acceptance. I've worn a two-piece swimsuit *gasp* to a public water park.  I wore a dress that I believed was too short for me and that I had no business wearing because I don't have nice legs.  I've worn heels with god damned ankle straps, people!  I'm trying to step out of the box I've put myself in because of my weight.  I plan to do things and wear things and say things that I never thought I was entitled to because of my size.  But I'm baby stepping it.  My 39th birthday is next month and I'm working on a bucket list of sorts for my 40th year that includes things I never thought I could do or should do because of how I looked.  I've got a big project planned for myself in August that's really scaring the shit out of me but that's a surprise for later.  But now I see I also have to stop attaching this imaginary fat to every aspect of my life and history as if it is the one thing that defines me and all my experiences and pain.  Because it doesn't, you know.  I am not my weight.  I promise you I will not remember this blog post according to what I weighed today.

So... what have I learned from this picture of my youth?  First, I need to realize that my normal size back then is a good thing.  It means that even though I have compromised my body because of my emotional needs that it still has the ability to maintain a normal, healthy weight if allowed to do so.  It also validates my suspicion that one of my trigger issues has to do with people abandoning or rejecting me, which I just wrote about, and knowing that gets me closer to healing.  I've learned that I don't have to take all my painful experiences and stuff them in a box labeled "fat" as if that's the worst thing I could be.  And lastly, as I look at that picture in my purple tank and lavender track shorts I know this for sure.  I have always had and hopefully will continue to have a "voluptuous backside", as my aunt so loving pointed out.  Vanilla In The Front indeed.