Blogging With a Purpose: My Biggest Weakness

I could blog all day about my weaknesses: coffee, chocolate, my lack of desire to clean anything these days, books, my laptop, coffee, my kids, lip gloss, coffee, Facebook, coffee.  And did I mention coffee?  But these are all superficial weaknesses.  The purpose of this 52 Week's series is to look inside yourself, not just to spout the first things you can think of.  That being said, I know my biggest weakness.  By far. 

My perception of myself.  And how my children see me. 

In college, and even the few years beyond, I struggled with body image issues.  I still do. I grew up being able to eat whatever I wanted and not having to worry about watching myself because I always just burned off the calories playing sports.  As I got older, though, and stopped playing sports the pounds just packed themselves on.  I started looking in the mirror more often and hating what I saw.  I referred to myself as "short and chubby".  I dreaded clothes shopping because of how horrible everything looked on my body.  I yo-yo dieted for a few years.  I pointed out all of my flaws (chubby thighs, crooked nose, hairy arms, ...) before anyone else could exploit them.  I basically spent my twenties in a cycle of "I hate myself"-diet-find all my flaws and obsess over them-repeat.  All those wasted years...

When I got pregnant in 2010 it was the very first time that I had ever truly appreciated my body and what it could do.  At 9+ months pregnant and weighing more than I ever had in my life, I'd finally...finally come to love myself.  I felt my daughter rolling and kicking inside of me and felt such pride that my body, the very thing I had come to hate and feel ashamed of, had grown, carried and sustained this little person for so long.

That lasted about a month after she was born.

Then it was back to "I hate myself"-diet-obsess over flaws-repeat.  I was horrified at what my body had become...the loose belly, the stretch marks all over,  the extra weight just clinging to my belly, butt and thighs, the cellulite where there used to be smooth skin before.  I stopped respecting my body for all that it had done and started hating it again.

Fast forward 2 years and I'm pregnant again.  I brought my daughter with me to one of my prenatal appointments.  It just so happened to be my 38 week appointment, so I'm plopped on the table getting ready for my internal and Bailey shouts to the doctor:  "Watch out for mommy's big butt!"

Not my kid, but this is a pretty accurate picture of what my face looked like

At the time, I thought it was hilarious and the doctor and I had a nice little chuckle over it.  But then I started to think about it more.  Is that how she sees me?  As having a big butt?  Doesn't she realize that my butt is this big partly because of her?  Couldn't she have commented on how cute my pedicure looked instead?

And then I realized...she said that because it's how I talk about myself.  I thought over the past 2.5 years of her life and I realized that Bailey has never heard me talk positively about my body.  She's curious and I'm pretty adamant about her not being ashamed or made to feel awkward about her body, so I don't rush her out of the room while I'm drying off after a shower and, let's face it, I haven't gone to to the bathroom alone in about 2 years...so, yeah.  She's seen the human body.  But when she points and asks, I always say "That's mommy's big, ole butt" or "That's mommy's flabby belly".  So that's all she knows --  that mommy has a flabby belly and a big butt.  And, unless and until I start being more positive about myself, that's all she'll ever know. 

Since realizing this a few days ago, I've tried really hard to un-do the damage I've already done.  I no longer refer to myself as chubby, fat, or flabby.  I don't stare at myself in the mirror and proclaim out loud how disappointed I am with the stretch marks that just won't go away or the weight I'm still trying to lose.  I don't moan and groan about how I'll never wear a bikini again or how much I'm dreading bathing suit shopping.  I just don't.

When they were born, I swore to myself and to them that Bailey and Gerry would always know that they were perfect (because, to me, they are).  And I've spent every day since they were born telling them how beautiful and handsome they are, how smart they are, and how much I love them.  I've worked hard to instill a good sense of self-esteem in them and now I need to do that for myself (or at the very least to stop hating on myself so much).  As they grow up, I want my children to know that beauty comes in all shapes and sizes.  I want them to know that their morals and values and how they treat other people is much more important than how they look.  I want them to know that their worth is not wrapped up in a tiny, size 2 body and that neither is anyone else's.  I want them to grow up thinking (knowing) that their mother was and is beautiful because she is a good person, an empathetic person, a person of value.  Not because she was skinny or a particular size. 

I'm working on my biggest weakness, I really am.  And I'll continue to do so, if not for myself, then for my kids.  I'm taking steps to fix it now.  Baby steps, but steps in the right direction nonetheless.

Next Week's Topic:  If I Were To Win the Lottery...