This is my body, and I love it just as it is.

Yup, that's my body. In a "Losers" tank.

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Looking back on my year, and the past few years, I’m amazed by how much I’ve actually changed in what was really such a short time. I began the year with the best intentions; I was going to work hard, embrace positivity, and fix myself. It all sounded great, in theory, but the application proved out of my grasp.

I spent a lot of the early part of the year mired in the negativity that I’ve always allowed to drag me down. I continued to see only the reasons why things couldn’t work, rather than getting excited by the possibility that something could work. It was an attitude that applied to everything in my life, including the way I perceived myself.

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grace [grays] noun

1. elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action.
2. a pleasing or attractive quality or endowment.
3. favor or good will.
4. a manifestation of favor, especially by a superior: It was only through the dean’s grace that I wasn’t expelled from school.
5. mercy; clemency; pardon: an act of grace

Recently, I’ve noticed that I am entirely without ability to extend any grace to myself. I first noticed it with the medically necessary changes in my diet; I’ve gone from being someone who can eat anywhere, to someone with a very challenging combination of restrictions (no dairy, no caffeine, and no spicy foods).

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I’m a big believer – no pun intended – in fat positivity. People are beautiful, and screw your weird western beauty standards! Working towards a healthier America has precious little to do with size. Heck, So You Think You Can Dance had a young woman get through the audition process and nearly make the show who was definitely not a little girl. She was talented, graceful, powerful and beautiful, too.

Because of this perspective, I had a tough time reconciling my decision to join a gym and Weight Watchers. Read the full post »

It might be an extreme example...

Last night, I got all girled up to go watch the Playoffs with friends. I wore blue tights, a miniskirt, my Rangers jersey and I matched my makeup and nails to the whole ensemble. A friend, via text from far, far away, commented that if I had any trouble getting some action, he would doubt the Rangers fan base (I’m paraphrasing). And I replied that while sweet, that would just never ever happen to me.

This isn’t a self-pity thing (even though I’ve been there). It’s not even a self-loathing thing (although I’ve been there, too). It’s a totally bizarre self-perception thing that I’ve never really thought much about. Read the full post »