I’m scared of a lot of things.
In my last post I admitted that I was scared of knowing the number on the scale. I didn’t weigh in this week because (1) I drank (and ate) a LOT last week and (2) I’m still scared of the power the number has on me.
I’m scared of writing about all these things publicly. Despite how much love I’ve gotten, every word feels like admitting failure and vulnerability.
And that brings me to where I am now, being scared of loving myself radically.
In the process of losing weight, I bought in so hard to the idea that I couldn’t love myself unless I kept losing and kept working toward being smaller. That fucks a person up.
What I had before this weight loss, was this kind of self righteous indignant body love that I could hold up and feel pride in because I was showing off my radical self acceptance. To be fat, unapologetically fat, is RADICAL.
Losing weight is nothing. From having a blog and reading tons of blogs, I know anyone can lose weight (losing a lot and keeping it off, slightly harder), but loving yourself is where the TRUE challenge is. How many women do you know that have tried dieting and lost weight? How many women do you know can say they, without concessions, love their body?
I’m guessing the number for the former is a hell of a lot higher than the latter.
There’s a problem with that. That makes me MAD. It incites rage, for myself, for women, for the world we live in.
I seem to be stuck in a kind of dichotomy where I think committing myself fully to radical self love will mean I will gain weight, which is totally ironic because it’s the whole reason I’ve lost weight.
Committing to self love means not slamming your mind and soul and body with hate talk, fat talk, and negative thoughts. It means not being scared of what’s in your head and that power of your own voice. It means not caring what people think of you as long as you’re being true to yourself.
For a while now I’ve stopped myself at the onset from doing a lot of things that scare me. My writing dwindled, my self love dwindled, my weight loss stalled, binge eating returned.
I need to heal, and healing requires being brave.
It’s so easy to go along with the masses when everyone else is critiquing their bodies and buying into the belief that their size and shape is their self worth. It’s so easy to get caught up in judgments and comparisons and showing off and getting stuck in the race to perfect.
I don’t have to be. I can be radical. I can believe I’m worthy of love when the media tells me I need Jenny Craig to start living the life of my dreams. I can believe my body is beautiful when the rest of the world is wondering who has the worst bikini body. I can be better than that.
I’ve been listening to the spoken word song (poem?) “I know girls” by Mary Lambert over and over again. In case you don’t know her, she’s the female voice on “Same Love” by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. She’s intoxicating. And deeply vulnerable and beautiful.
Listen, and heal: