I have lived in the same town my entire life. The same people have seen me through many life stages, and sometimes that's good. This particular example is perhaps one that's bad.
I went with the kids to collect money for a jump rope fundraiser around the neighborhood. After some polite conversation, things took a sudden turn. My neighbor looks at me and says, "Oh my, Melissa (not my name). You sure have packed on the pounds!"
I blush, say, "Uh, well thanks."
"No, really, I've never seen you look this bad."
"Yeah, I know," I said, because, really, what do you say to that?
So, here is the thing. I've walked now twice in the last twenty-four hours. I know I just have to kind of laugh this off, but I've been feeling self-conscious and fat for a while anyway. Here's what I don't want; I don't want to go all crazy and half kill myself trying to look good.
I was the girl in high school who ate no breakfast, ate a half of a turkey sandwich with no cheese on whole wheat bread, with raw carrots and water every day for years, because I was afraid of being fat. In college, I ran every day until I was a size 0, and at 5'7", that was probably not a good thing.
This is what I know. I've gotten a little thick, but I didn't die. I'm still me, totally accepted and loved by my husband who likes the way I look. God doesn't love me less just because there's more of me, and one day, I'll loose the baby weight I gained, bringing three lovely girls into this world. Right now, the baby's second birthday is just around the corner. I'm going to aim for 10- 15 pounds lost by April.
Then I'm going to go back to that neighbor, and pour blessings on her head.