Body Matters | Weighty Matters

Dance Like Nobody’s Watching

by Mary Stella

I added onto my post yesterday about taking my first ever Zumba Gold class. Zumba Gold is for those of us who are over 50 and it doesn’t bring quite the intensity as the regular Zumba workouts. This does not mean, however, that it’s a gentle stroll on a sandy beach. During that hour, you dance-workout to a number of up tempo songs doing dance steps, working all your body parts, shimmying like a Dancing with the Stars contestant and, in general, getting your heart rate up, up, up. There are also some numbers where you dance while shaking toning sticks and that focuses additional toning strength on your arms in particular.

This class was a blast. I am thrilled that I was able to keep up and do the entire workout without keeling over from lack of oxygen or having my legs collapse beneath me like melting gelatin.

One thing that I kept thinking about yesterday was the importance of being willing to try this new activity and not be self-conscious or embarrassed about how I might actually appear while doing the moves. While I have the ability to keep a beat and decent rhythm, I sure as hell did not look as crisp and solid in my motions as the instructor and some of the other women in the class. Some things that were awesome dance moves by them were closer to flailing when I tried them for the first time. When I shimmy my boobs threaten to swing from one side of the room to the other, so I was glad that I wore a snug sports bra under my T-shirt. One wall of the room is a floor-to-ceiling mirror. I focused on the instructor and definitely not on myself.

So here’s my point. Sometimes you just have to dance like nobody’s watching. I aimed for constant motion over quality and precision. I’m sure I’ll get better with practice, but in the meantime, the goal was cardio exercise. It’s not like I had a dance judge waiting to score my performance. Nobody else in class was going to offer me a style critique. A couple of them also flailed a bit even though they have more experience.

Overweight people are very self-conscious, by and large. (No pun intended.) We don’t have great body image. I’ve only met a few women in my life who were overweight and completely comfortable with their excess pounds. In fact, they both belly-danced, wearing sheer, revealing, midriff-baring outfits! I admire their confidence while knowing that I’d never replicate it in quite those circumstances. I’ll get up and dance with friends at parties and not think twice about it because it’s all about the fun.

I was able to put away my self-consciousness and Zumba like nobody was watching. In that class, it was all about the fitness.

Body Matters General Musings NSVs

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Please Be Seated

by Mary Stella

Being morbidly obese is stressful, physically, mentally and emotionally. Unless someone is so deep in their own denial that they completely block out reality, the awareness of our bodies — often how huge we feel — is always front and center. For so many years, I never sat in an unknown-to-me chair without first assessing, and worrying, whether it was sturdily built and could hold my weight. Given the option between a dinner chair with arms and a side chair without arms, I always picked the side chair rather than face the possibly humiliation of my ass being to big to fit in the other style.

In theaters or arenas, or conferences set up with rows of chairs, I always wanted a seat on the end. Not only did I not want to squeeze in between two other bodies, but I didn’t want to discomfort two other people forced to sit on either side. Same thing with airplanes. Aisle seat, please!

There are numerous other situations where I always eyed available spaces and fretted over whether I was too big, but right now I’m thinking about seating. Specifically, I’m feeling grateful that I’ve lost enough weight to be free of most of these worries. The chairs at my nephew’s graduation were not the strongest looking folding style, but I wasn’t worried. Granted, I didn’t body slam myself into the chair. I employed a graceful, ladylike lowering of my rear end. However, I also was confident that the chair would hold up — and it did. I had aisle seats up and back to Boston in the planes and could definitely feel more room on either side of my body — except when the young woman fell asleep next to me and slumped over to my side.

I’m at a conference for a few days. Tonight a group of us went to an Irish pub with tall tables and high stools. It wasn’t always easy for me to boost myself up onto one of these stools. No problem tonight!

I know that I can fit more comfortably in the different seats, and also actually relax now that I don’t have to fear the chair breaking or collapsing beneath me. I’ve shed the pounds and, in so doing, have also lost the emotional heaviness and stress. These are developments that I’ll definitely take sitting down!

Body Matters NSVs

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Body Self-Acceptance

by Mary Stella

I do not like my body. There. I said it. Actually, I first typed that I hate my body and then deleted the stronger verb. You might find this hard to believe but it’s not just because I’m still fat with lumps, bumps, rolls, cellulite and other less-than-attractive features. I’m also big-boned with broad hips and shoulders, large hands and feet, and a longer torso with shorter legs.

There’s debate on that last part. My nail tech says that I have longer legs than I think. I vehemently disagree, but at the same time willingly admit that I am not the most objective person about my own body. I’m not even a close second. In fact, truth be told, I am the last objective person. I hope this improves as I continue to lose weight, but there’s no guarantee. So rather than worry about whether I will love, hate, scoff at or scorn my even more slender physique, I’m just going to work on acceptance.

It’s a damn good thing no guys have been interested in me for a long while. No way in hell could I have worked up to getting naked with them. When I think about the fact that for a couple of hours I was naked on an operating room table in a room full of doctors, all I can say is, “Thank God I was completely out of it and asleep.” I purposely don’t think about it on my followup appointments with my surgeon. It will do no good to look at him and think, “Oh crap. He saw my entire naked self.”

Where was I? Oh right. Acceptance. I really am working in that general direction. I look at some of the positive changes and smile. I admire the length and grace of my fingers and my thinner wrists and forearms. I notice that my ankles at the end of the day no longer look like I’ve slipped water balloons under the skin. When I sit, I can tell that my thighs are less broad. These are all good things to note and admire.

Still, I’m a long, long way from really accepting myself and, hopefully, moving on to actually liking my body. However, I think that today I made a big step forward. I got a massage while wearing only my panties and a sheet. Granted, the massage therapist was a woman and not some textbook fantasy hot Swedish guy with great muscles and strong hands, but still. I willingly got more than half naked.

I’m so glad that I’d moved at least far enough forward in my quest for self-acceptance that I could take this step today because I really needed the care. Last night I strained my back enough for it to be extremely stiff and painful today with slight, twisting movement. I was miserable. Six months ago I would have suffered through the pain for days until it eased on its own. Today, when a friend suggested I call her excellent massage therapist friend, I took the leap.

Thankfully, the woman had an opening. She spent an hour working on the trouble spot as well as the rest of my back. By the time that she was done, my pain was gone.

Today at least, progress in self-acceptance led to easing of agony.

I’ve never loved massages. Much of the time, they’ve been uncomfortable as the practitioners dug in too hard. Lying face down on the tables has also not been the best position. I’ve had times when I needed to adjust because it felt like my lungs couldn’t inflat properly beneath my excess pounds. That problem is gone with the excess weight, I’m pleased to say. I also didn’t worry about whether I was too heavy for her table.

Not only did I enjoy today’s massage, but I was also helped a great deal. I’m planning to get a massage once a month or once every six weeks. It’s a great way to reward myself while also working on more of that body self-acceptance.

Body Matters NSVs

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Invisible or Hiding in Plain Sight

by Mary Stella

I have what some would describe as a larger than life personality. I’m outgoing, chatty, friendly. I have no trouble walking up to strangers and introducing myself at business functions. I’m a comfortable networker. When I’m having fun, I’m prone to laughing out loud with the sheer joy of whatever I’m doing. All of these traits serve me well in life, particularly in my job.

Because of this seeming overwhelming evidence to the contrary, it’s difficult for people to believe that I have a shy side. I don’t need to be the life of the party and call attention to myself. In fact, too much attention makes me really uncomfortable. I’m most at ease in a group of my friends, all having fun together.

Okay. Let me go back a little and really look at what I’m feeling and trying to say. I don’t like negative attention and that’s what I usually project that I’m going to receive because of my weight. For years, I think I assumed that when I entered a room, everybody else already there would immediately think, in unison, “Holy crap. Look at that whale!” Because I always entered into situations and activities constantly thinking about how my body size might be received, or how it might impact what I was doing, my assumption was that everyone else always thought about it too.

I can’t tell you how often I wished that I could be invisible or that I could somehow hide myself in plain sight.

Absolutely I know that I thought about this far more excessively than most of the people around me. However, I’m not totally wrong about some people and their reactions. Trust me. If you’ve been fat, you’ve seen the fleeting (and sometimes not so fleeting) look of dismay cross someone’s face when they realize that they’re the passenger that’s going to squeeze into the middle seat next to you on an airplane or that you’re the person who’s going to take the empty seat next to them in the concert arena.

Most people are nice, but there is also a significant percentage of others who aren’t. They’re the ones who aren’t discreet about their reactions. In fact, some like to ramp up their disgust level past the point of blatant and throw in a heavy sigh, just in case you didn’t get the point from their expression.

I think one of the things that I am most enjoying about losing weight, aside from the health benefits I’m already seeing and the greater ease of movement, is that I’m not measuring as many things against my body size as I was four months ago. I don’t worry about whether I’m going to fit in a seat, or whether a step is going to crack under my weight. I’m already steadier on my feet and feeling more agile and balanced. (The Tai Chi is helping a great deal with that balance.)

I no longer feel like the fattest person in the world. (Yes, I know I was never the fattest person in the world, but that’s how I felt. Feelings are not always logical, but they are no less real to the person experiencing them.) I don’t assume that my obesity is the first thing people notice any more. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t — but that’s doesn’t matter. I feel better about the first impression I’m making and that’s the important difference.

It isn’t important for me to be invisible or try to hide in plain sight. I’m much, much more comfortable inside and out.

Body Matters

Am I So Vain?

by Mary Stella

I figure that I was never big on being vain. Heck, even if someone told me they meant it, I wouldn’t think a song was about me. 🙂

Honestly, how could someone who remained obese most of her life be vain about appearance? That’s my reasoning, anyway. I don’t think in my head that I often looked in the mirror and thought that I looked good. Pretty much, I’d internally qualify it as, “All things considered, you look good enough” or at least “You look as good as you can, considering”.

Even now when someone exclaims, “Wow, you look great!”, I mentally add “as compared to how you looked three or four months ago”. Or I change it in my head to, “You look better!”

Better. That I can definitely accept.

While I’ve never been vain about my appearance as a whole, there have been some aspects about which I will admit to some degree of vanity. I love my nails to look good. I know that I’m fortunate to have really good skin. I never had bad acne breakouts when I was a teen. As an adult, I successfully combat blackheads, most whiteheads, and know that my skin’s in great shape. I also have great hair. It’s thick, a bit coarse, and naturally wavy — although now I do keratin treatments so it’s mostly straight, but still has shine and swing to it. I’m growing it longer these days and want to see if I can get it to the length where I can pull it back if I need to.

So, what prompted the musing over vanity today? My hair. People who have had weight loss surgery before me warned me that this time would come. About three months post-surgery with the rapid weight loss, they said, be prepared to lose hair.

Oh yes, the time has come. I noticed it last week when I washed my hair. Multiple strands tangled in my fingers when I worked in the shampoo. More hair scatters on my skin when I get out of the shower. Even more strands are filling up my brushes. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

Logically I know that I am not going to lose so much hair that I’m bald. I’ve already been assured of that by others. Plus, this will stop happening in just a couple of months. I honestly have no business bitching. God knows, people who go through chemotherapy have a much, much worse time of it when they lose alllll of their hair. Seriously. How vain am I to even complain a little?

Color me human. I pull the strands from the brush, wipe up the shower and sink, sweep the bathroom floor and think, “Holy wow, I’m really losing my hair!” In dismay, I stare at the mirror to reassure myself. Yes, there’s still a full head of hair in my reflection. Enough with the vanity. Instead, I’m going to concentrate on gratitude that I have so much hair to start with that nobody but me and my hairstylist will even notice the difference.

Not let’s go on to my skin. I am fortunate that, according to most people I know, I do not look my age. I’m 54 and have had multiple folks tell me they thought I was in my early 40s. I smile, thank them, and say that I could tell them it’s because I’ve led a good, clean life, but that would be a lie. 🙂

Even I can see that I have far fewer wrinkles and lines than a lot of people around my age. I attribute this luckiness to a few things: Genetics; not smoking; and the fact that the fat in my face plumped out the wrinkles so that not as many show.

I’ve definitely lost weight in my face and I think that includes at least one of my extra chins. At the RT Convention, an artist told me that I have high cheekbones. I never realized that, probably because I’ve never had a good look at the bone structure beneath the chubbiness. To be honest, I’m starting to wonder how much the skin in my face will sag as I continue to lose more weight.

I already know that I’m going to have pounds of excess, hanging skin around the rest of my body. I’m prepared to have surgery to remove the excess in a couple of years. In the meantime, I’m sure I can hide most of it underneath my clothes or, if need be, inside some compression garments. Spanx might be my new best friend.

It’s harder to hide sagging skin on my face. So right now I’m hope that bone structure, genetics, and the fact that my skin’s retained a fair amount of resilience over the years, all combine to minimize sagging. Please, please, please, let that be the case, at least for the next year. I don’t mind eventually needing to nip, lift, and tuck. I’m just vain enough to not want to look like a hag until I’m completely finished with the weight loss and can go do something about it.

Seriously, after spending so much time and effort having surgery and following a strict plan, I’d like to revel in looking better than I ever have.

Is that too much to ask? Am I really so vain?

Body Matters General Musings

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Alterations

by Mary Stella

I met with the seamstress today and handed over three pairs of capri or cropped length pants and a pair of denim shorts. Two of the pairs of pants have already been taken in once and now need a second go-round. I’ve tried wearing them, but can only do so if I roll the waistband over a couple of times — otherwise, the legs bag and it feels like the crotch and seat hang to my knees. Same thing with the shorts. The seamstress and I agreed that she’d take in more than we thought we needed to because, by the time she’s done with the jobs, I’ll have lost more weight.

Wow. This is a terrific feeling, so know that my clothes continue to get too big on me. If these particular garments weren’t in such good shape, I wouldn’t bother, but with the alterations, they’ll look great and be able to help me stretch my wardrobe for a couple more months at least.

Her prices are reasonable enough that even doing some garments twice costs less than buying new. If I can get through the end of June before I need to invest in more new clothes, I’ll be happy. At that point, I’ll buy a few things to last me for as many months as I can and plan on altering them, too, down the line.

This is another new change from previous years and other experiences with seamstresses. I remember when I was about 11 or 12 and was going to be a junior bridesmaid in the wedding of a really good friend of our family’s. They were able to order me the dress in a size usually reserved for older girls and then do a little sewing magic to make it right for me, add a sash, etc. A couple of years later, I needed a summery, floor length dress to be a guest for a formal wedding, but there was no way to find an age-appropriate outfit that would fit my now bigger 14 year old body and still suit the event. So Mom found a seamstress who could remove the long skirt part from that bridesmaid’s dress and then fashion a completely different top in a complementary color.

Back when I was a teenager, there weren’t as many stores that catered to plus sized kids, although our small town actually had one — appropriately called The Chubette store. While we could find clothes for me for school and regular stuff, those special events presented bigger challenges. Sure, we could find my size by going to stores for adults, but the styles weren’t right for my age. Poor Mom. Thank God she was always willing to go to any lengths to help, or drive into Philadelphia — over an hour away — for additional options.

Is it any wonder that I never developed the shopping bug that so many women have. Spending an afternoon shopping at a mall ranks high on my list of least-favorite activities!

I need to send a big shout-out to talented seamstresses everywhere. Back in the 1990s, I was asked to be a bridesmaid for one of my dearest friends. We went to a lovely bridal shop with her matron of honor and picked out a gown that each of us loved! Bless the saleslady who took me into a dressing room to get my measurements for ordering. She was the soul of discretion when she told me privately that the company didn’t make the dress in my size, but that their seamstress could get the pattern and custom make it. I thanked her profusely and asked her to not tell my friend that I was going to pay to have the dress made.

The day of the wedding, my dress looked exactly like other attendant’s. It was worth the extra expense to be able to share the day and not feel like my weight had caused a problem for my friend.

To now be going the other way is one more reason that I’m thrilled about having weight loss surgery and the steady, great results I’m seeing. I’ve lost over 70 pounds in 13 weeks and am experiencing so many positive changes.

In the months ahead, I will eventually reach the point where I don’t need to go to plus-size specialty stores in person or online to purchase clothes. Going into “regular” stores is going to be a whole new adventure. I have absolutely no idea where to start and will have to learn an entirely new sizing terminology. I’ve already gotten friends to promise that they’ll come with me because I anticipate it being a little stressful, as well as fun. Also, very soon, I’m going to have to go somewhere and get professionally fitted for new bras. The ones that I have now fit weird, gap and don’t look as good as they should.

I’m not complaining, really I’m not. I’m just reporting on the situation as I’ve observed. I’m looking forward to the first shopping adventure. With an altered body and new way of thinking, who knows? I might actually start to love shopping more!

Body Matters My Progress

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Picturing Progress

by Mary Stella

Thank you, everyone, for your kind words on yesterday’s loss of a friend.

So, I’ve been ~~threatening~~ promising to put up some pictures to illustrate my progress. This is more difficult for me to do than I thought. I’m sure it isn’t a big surprise to anyone that having my picture taken has never been one of the top ten things to do on my list. It’s emotionally hard to face the evidence of super obesity. No matter how someone else might comment on my outfit or my smile or whatever, I see only the humongousness of my body. Oh the many times I’ve tried to hide in the back of group pictures or someway, anyway, make myself less conspicuous.

Even today when I went through photographs to find one that would show you all where I was before weight loss surgery, I experienced a range of emotions — none of them great. Embarrassment, shame, sadness, and a healthy dose of, “Oh good God”. My heart aches for the me in the old photos, even while I cringe while looking at them.

Then I looked at the most recent ones, taken a week or so ago when I went to the RT Bookreviews Magazine Booklovers Convention. Even though by number of pounds I’m still obese, I’m not trying to hide in any of the pictures. I’m happy with the progress I’ve made and the improvements I’m experiencing and the happiness shows. The joy in my heart has helped me overcome the shame of the past and post the before and after photos.

Here goes. This first one was taken about a year ago. If I wasn’t quite at my top weight, I was damn close to it.

Now here’s a photo of me with a friend taken a week ago today.

Hanging with my good friend

Even I, with my messed up self-image, can see the difference in my weight. When this photo was taken, I was down 65 pounds. My body is smaller, my face is thinner. Even my forearm and wrist are not as big as they used to be.

What you can’t see is how I feel. In that moment, I was simply happy to be photographed with my dear friend. I wasn’t even thinking about what I looked like. I was just happy. When I first saw the photo, I didn’t cringe or think any evil thoughts about myself. I simply smiled and shared it with friends and family on my personal FB page.

I realize now that it’s good for me to take more pictures of myself as I continue on this journey. Sure I can note my progress according to the number on my scale and how I physically feel, but really looking at my changing, improving body is (pardon the pun) ample evidence of the improvements happening with my body. The practice engenders positive reinforcement like a big pat on the back to myself for doing everything that I need to do to get healthier. Positive action changes everything and these are great changes.

Oh, a side note: See the outfit I’m wearing in the before picture? I wore that shirt today. It’s much looser on me and doesn’t cling to fat rolls. I recently had the pants taken in but need to revisit the seamstress and have her make them even smaller. WOOT!

By the way, I got on the scale today and I’d lost a few more pounds. My total now stands at 68 pounds. I’m now at a weight lower than I can remember being in the longest time. Seriously, I don’t remember when I last weighed this much. Best of all, the best is still yet to come!

Body Matters My Progress

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Cravings

by Mary Stella

Ever since I returned from my trip, I’ve been craving carbs. Even more than sweets, I think about how much I’d like to enjoy a plate of pasta, a thick, crusty piece of Italian bread dipped in herb-infused olive oil or a dense, flavorful muffin accented with creamy, soft butter.

Not that I could actually eat a whole plate of pasta, thick slice of bread or entire muffin, but I’d be more than happy to pick at the dishes a few bites at a time and put the rest away.

I feel somewhat like an alcoholic who is positive that one small drink won’t hurt.

It’s not that I’m on a no-carb diet, but I’m supposed to follow a low-carb plan. So if I have carbs, they need to be in very small amounts and not all in one meal or on one day. Honestly, if I’m following my plan right and eating protein first, I don’t have much room for carbs, so it should be relatively a non-issue.

Yeah, right. Cravings are always an issue. I’ve been extraordinarily happy to not be struck with them much since the surgery. I don’t count when I was in week five of the six-weeks of liquid diets and craved something more solid. Hell, at that point anyone would have craved something other than milk, soup or protein shakes.

I had a bagel today. Not all at once, but spread out over two snacks and lunch. This was a poor choice for several reasons. One — a big Thomas’s Everything bagel has lots of carbs and calories. Even thought I didn’t eat the entire thing at one time, it still upped my count for the entire day. Two — by eating the pieces of bagel, I took up room in my stomach that was meant for protein. So, today I not only went over my carb goal, but I’m also under my protein grams.

Blech. I’m not beating myself up, although I’m not happy with the choices I made. I’m just putting it out here so that I can process it all in my head and get back on track tomorrow. I don’t want to slide down a slippery slope and repeat the behavior tomorrow.

When I quit smoking many years ago, I learned in the cessation class that the urge to smoke will pass whether or not you have a cigarette. There’s an actual, chartable, progress to a nicotine urge. It builds and builds for about ten minutes but if you can make it through the peak of the urge, the craving will dissipate. I’ve never found that to be true of food cravings. What usually works better for me is to substitute. A glass of water, a cup of hot tea, a bite of something else. The trick is to be willing to not pick up the carb overload.

I can do this. I will do this tomorrow. Today wasn’t horrible, but tomorrow is going to be even better.

Body Matters General Musings

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As Sick as Our Secrets

by Mary Stella

We’re only as sick as our secrets. That’s something else I learned at OA. The idea is that if we air out these things, chase them out into the light of day, we can break their power over us and head toward healing. Every once in a while I second guess myself about being as open about things as I’ve been on this blog. A couple of friends have, in a caring way, asked if I really ought to talk about everything that I share.

When the doubts come, I remind myself that I’m only as sick as my secrets. If there were OA meetings anywhere near where I live, I’d go and discuss all these things in the rooms. I’d probably still blog them, but I know for a fact I’d talk. However, there aren’t any meetings. so this blog is my room.

If the process didn’t feel good, if I didn’t honestly believe that I benefit and grow healthier by sharing, I wouldn’t do it. Sharing relieves me of more of the shame, every single time. The secrets diminish in enormity and power. I become stronger. This blog is good self-care.

Thank you for being the witnesses that listen to my sharing. I’m happy that you’re here, even all of you quiet ones who read and don’t comment. It’s okay. You’ll speak up if you need or want to. That’s totally your choice. Just know that even if you never type a comment, you’re welcome here.

Moving on. 🙂

I had another NSV today. For the first time, when I looked in the mirror, I saw the weight loss in my face. I was so surprised that I stopped rubbing in cleanser and stared. I touched the promise of a cheekbone that I spotted lurking beneath my skin and smiled.

Other than watching the number reduce on my scale and feeling clothes get steadily bigger, I haven’t seen the weight loss — except in my hands and fingers. This morning was a revelation. It felt great. I also know that every morning and every night I’ll look at myself — my growing thinner self — and feel the positive reinforcement of all the effort. My own image will serve as a terrific reminder that I’m making positive progress.

Love it!

Body Matters General Musings My Progress NSVs

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Unconditional Acceptance

by Mary Stella

I dropped by to visit with some friends a little while ago. They’re leaving the Keys soon and I don’t know when I’ll next see them. They, like all of my friends, have been so supportive of me in these last few months. They have another friend elsewhere who is morbidly obese and struggling. The guy said to me something that resonated. “I’ll love you no matter where you are with your weight, but I’m awfully glad that you’re working so hard to get healthier so you’ll be around that much longer.”

I know that the root of most people’s concern for me has always been my health. My family and friends have loved me no matter where up or down the scale I sat. That has always meant so much to me, and continues to touch my heart and soul. I wish the rest of the world was always so supportive.

Early wounds inflicted by unkind, even cruel, people stay with us a lonnngggg time. Unless I get dementia when I’m older, I will never forget the jerk in high school who would yell, “Thar she blows” loudly across the school campus whenever he caught sight of me. I won’t say that he singled me out because he really was a jerk and came up with equally rotten things to say about other classmates who didn’t fit his ideal.

He’s just one example. Those kinds of abusive, mean-spirited statements made an impact and added shape to my character in good and bad ways. I learned to echo ridicule in my head when I thought about my own body. It got to the point where I could be as derogatory to myself as anybody else, if not more so. I’m still unraveling the damage and will need to continue to do so every step of the way. I sincerely hope that I will be able to accept myself and truly see my body in the way that it is, rather than cart around the old pictures even when I’m far thinner.

The other way the unkindness impacted me is that I don’t ever want to be that cruel to another person. Whether I meet someone who’s obese, or incredibly thin, someone who’s missing a limb or has a facial deformity — whatever the case, I am determined that my reactions and interaction with them will not be affected by their body shape and outside appearance. I want to offer them unconditional acceptance. Truthfully, that is exactly what they deserve. What every person deserves.

Even me. 🙂 I’m committed to extending unconditional acceptance to myself. My body’s experiencing changes all of the time. It’s getting better day by day. I’m going to love myself unconditionally today and tomorrow, and then every day after. Even when the excess skin left by the weight loss begins to hang in drapes around my body. (Oh yeah. I fully intend to have plastic surgery to remove the problem when the time comes.) No matter what I will show myself this respect and be a better, healthier person because of it.

Body Matters

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Weighty Matters

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Dance Like Nobody’s Watching

Please Be Seated

Body Self-Acceptance

Invisible or Hiding in Plain Sight

Am I So Vain?

Alterations

Picturing Progress

Cravings

As Sick as Our Secrets

Unconditional Acceptance

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