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.
Weighty Matters 