Family visits and painful thoughts from the past

This weekend I saw 3 aunts I haven't seen in a long time. As always recently when I see someone for the first time in awhile, their reactions were very gratifying. I get all flustered when people go on and on about how good I look, but of course I also love it. I clutch it to my heart for those moments when life is rough. One of my aunts said even my way of speaking has changed in that I am more confident, articulate, and my manner of speaking is more polished -- but I think that also has something to do with the job I've had for the last year causing my professional skills to evolve, which bleeds over into all areas of life. She and I also talked about how we're both dating again for the first time in a long time -- nearly a decade for me and 50 years for her after her husband died last year. It was fun and she's always so fun and brilliant to talk to, even if I have to take some things she says with large grains of salt. We enjoy discussing cross-generational things.

I've dropped 3 more pounds over the last few days - YAY! I also bought a pair of size 14 pants without trying them on first, and when I got them home they fit great! Woo hoo! I also went on a mini-shopping spree and bought a bunch of clothes at the Gap (the gap!! size large! Off the rack without second thought!!) and a couple pairs of new 3" heels (in a size smaller) at Payless. It continues to be amazing to wear such cute clothes and look good, and to wear heels with no pain even after several hours of wear. I love it!


...On a more serious note, I was driving home from Sacramento and had a flash back to an incident that happened to me when I was about 14. It really hit me and made me think more about the causes of my being obese. First, I want to preface with my absolute love for my mother and appreciation for our truly special bond. But...I guess everyone has flaws, and I spent years being miserable about the flaws in my mother. As I've gotten older, it has become easier to overlook her flaws and ways of being hyper-critical, or to just absorb it along with all of her good qualities. Anyway, I have begun to understand and accept over the last few years that my mother and some of the things she said, did, implied, whatever, were a big part of the reason I became obese.

I've talked on here before about my childhood as a star athlete. I was never small, and even at my most fit, I always had a bit of extra padding. Looking back, I don't think I was fat...or even chubby, "husky", whatever they call kids with a few extra pounds. Well, I wasn't ever small, and it didn't help that I was 5'7" by age 12. I think I was wearing size 11 clothes, and size 10.5 shoes by age 11, and stayed that approximate size until around age 16.

So, my memory -- I had just turned 14 and my family was at a museum. I remember seeing a lot of that art for the first time. I had found some paintings that were either by Reubens or another artist that featured more full-figured women. I was staring at them in awe, for one of the first times seeing how curvy women could be considered beautiful, and my family was discussing how bigger women used to be the ideal. The women in the paintings were very soft, curvy, and graceful, not at all like my athletic, big-boned body, and probably would wear size 16-ish clothing, just at a guess, compared to my size 11-12. I remember looking at my mom with big eyes and big smile and excitedly said something like, "Mom, look at them! Finally, women that look like me but are pretty! Do I look anything like them, do you think?" And my mom said, I can hear her clearly in my head, "Well...maybe you could look like them if you lost a little weight..."

I was crushed. I remember quickly agreeing, "Oh, yeah, of course you're right," and deflating quickly and sort of dragging after the family for the rest of the day. This memory hit me clearly and brought back all of the same pain and confusion that I felt during that time in my life. From the age of 10 or 11 on I've had a slightly distorted view of how I looked. When I look back at photos of myself from that age, I'm always shocked at how thin and muscular I look. I somehow expect to see a roly-poly little pig. For all that my mother is amazing, she honestly holds a lot of the blame for that. She used to tell me all the time how I needed to lose weight. When I was 18, I joined the Army ROTC and did PT every morning at 5:30am. I ran for miles, did push-ups, sit-ups, weight-training, field exercises, etc. My weight was up to 175 (I had slowly gained 30 pounds and 1 inch in height since age 12) but I was ripped with muscles and easily in the best shape of my life. I had also just earned my first degree black belt in taekwodo. My mom called me at my college dorm and talked for the thousandth time about how worried about my weight she was. She offered to pay me to lose 15 pounds. Pay me money. To lose weight. Her super-fit, martial artist, Army-joining daughter. At the time, I shamefully accepted the challenge, though I never lost the weight she requested. Now, looking back, the whole thing shocks and disgusts me.

It doesn't surprise me as much to think about why I got so much fatter over the years after that. I didn't have the slightest clue what I looked like. I had sort of shrugged my mental shoulders and said "If I'm so fat, I guess I'll just be fat," or something like that.

But, I hope that I'm slowly over-coming that. My relationship with my mother has never been better, and she has been the most constant, loudest supporter of my recent WLS journey, after she made sure this step was one I really wanted to take. I overheard her and my aunt talking on Friday about how gorgeous I am now. Just, wow. It's all still a little amazing, even if I can't help but wish she had been different to me all those years ago, and that they didn't place so much emphasis on me being gorgeous "now". I'll take what support and happiness where I can find it, and try to not let the pain of the past overshadow any more of my life.