Except when I do worry about it. Which I am doing now.
I am actually excited to post the video of the fashion show I participated in last week. You know, the one that kept me offline and running around all hours rehearsing, going to fittings, and generally crowing about how alternately excited and exhausted I was. Everyone involved put in a ton of effort and time to pull off the whole event and it ended up making great money for the school's new music room, I am pleased to report.
As a blogger, of course I edited together some bits of me, assuming you didn't want to watch the full hour-plus footage of all of us (seven other moms plus sixteen 4-11 year-olds!)cat-walking about.... But four minutes of me (it sounds excessive, yes, but I wanted a piece from each song!), plus a random troll that keeps leaving comments about how full of myself I am (how dare she!?), has me feeling a little awkward about posting such an Amy-centric video about me (even though I see stars shooting out of that word!).
I know, I know, my narcissism usually knows no bounds, right? But I'm also having my period, so I'm fragile. Just hold me.... it will pass. ;)
(be sure to keep reading below the video for some exposition on perceived egotism and body image)
Would my ebullience and delight about this make it more palatable if I told you a background story?
I've never sounded off on body issues in this forum before, but have at least three drafts in my posts folder that I have started and then left to simmer indefinitely. I can imagine, after watching the video above, that you are thinking, right now: 'SHUT UP, Amy... what do YOU know about weight issues??"
Well, let me enlighten you: I used to be 35 pounds heavier. It wasn't a case of just putting on weight since having children. It was a case of, I chunked up in the 3rd grade and remained about 20 pounds overweight for the next 23 years. I've always been a big girl. Part of my identity was built around being heavy and big-boned. I have stories of going to Weight Watchers with my mom... when I was in the FIFTH grade, for crissakes! I thought I would be big for the rest of my life and never even really bothered to try and lose weight. I mean, I still did the yearly try-and-drop-10-pounds-diet that every woman is supposed to start in January, but I just assumed that even though I might be able to shave off a few pounds, it wouldn't really make a difference. It didn't bother me too, too much, though, because I thought I was pretty great the way I was, anyway. (Certainly that doesn't surprise you....) But I was certainly never comfortable in tight clothing, bathing suits, or even being naked in front of my husband. And that just ain't right, folks. :(
I think it was the very real prospect of soon passing the 200 mark on the scale that finally got my ass into a gym and going to Weight Watchers meetings religiously. (I saw that milestone while pregnant and it is not one I care to pass again, thankyouverymuch.) I had started doing some of my shopping in Lane Bryant, as a 14 just wasn't as roomy as I liked my clothes to feel.... so I was definitely alarmed that perhaps I had become too complacent about the whole matter.
For the two years following Destructo's birth I made it my job to lose the weight. (And I am fully aware that the luxury of being able to stay home with the kids and that I could afford a gym membership that included childcare made it possible to use that mindset.) It was hard work retraining my patterns and cooking rituals, but the payoff was so huge and worth it.
Since losing the weight, I feel like I am at the top of my game. Part of that is from the confidence of knowing I look better now than I did when I was younger. My face may be starting to sag, with wrinkles coming in all over the place, and my breasts might be a shadow of their former selves....
But, damn, that size 10 looks and feels good. And since I never knew what that felt like in my teens or twenties, you better believe I am going to relish every moment that I can feel that good about a dress size now.
So, you can go suckit, troll.