Right now, at 33 weeks, I feel like I look like I did when I was nine months pregnant with Maya. I’ve already gained above the 25 pounds I gained with her. I’m waddling. Wearing heels hurts. And my spine is all out of whack from having a giant basketball in front. I feel like a human teapot, about to tip over at any given moment. And on top of all that awesomeness, I’m pretty much a forgetful, anxious hot mess these days.
So it came as quite a surprise when, on two separate occasions in the past week, people paid me compliments that totally didn’t jive with how I have been feeling … but made me feel great regardless. Continue reading “Perception and Reality”→
In 2004-2005, when I was on the slimmer side, I’d often look in the mirror and think I look bigger than I actually was (i.e., classic case of body dysmorphia). It made no sense … my clothes were three sizes smaller, I was leaner than ever in my life … yet I still saw “fat” … sad/pathetic as that is to say now.
Over time, I packed some pounds on — to the tune of half of my initial 35-lb weight loss. I actually made peace with my body at this half-way stage. I was maintaining that half-loss with very little effort and could eat what I wanted and enjoy. No, I wasn’t thin … but I was happy. Food didn’t rule me. Exercise didn’t dictate my life. It was completely freeing. Continue reading “Body dysmorphia during pregnancy”→
I want to share this awesome article I read at Rookiemag.com called Eating: A Manifestothat author and blogger Clare Mysko shared on Facebook today, which could be best summed up by this paragraph in the piece:
“Could we stop feeling ‘guilty’ for wanting an effing brownie? Or a plate of fries? Could we stop actively seeking permission from our friends to go ahead and ‘be bad’ and order the cheesecake? Could we all just go ahead and order whatever it is that we feel like eating, instead of saying, ‘Oh, I feel like a pig, you guys are just getting salads’?” Continue reading “Eat the Damn Brownie”→
Even when I was at my goal weight in 2004/2005, I still wasn’t satisfied.
When people told me I looked great, I’d shrug it off , embarassed, and say, “Aw, thanks … but I’m not there yet!” I was afraid of admitting this was “it.” (What if there was more to lose?!)
Some days I’d say I felt “fat” when rationally it was just not so; I just “felt” that way.
Having never been thin and having nothing to compare my body to was a sucky situation to be in. I didn’t know where I was “comfortable” — except that it “had” to be X lbs.
X lbs., that sounded like a nice, good number. In my head.
I suffered from total body dysmorphia, but didn’t know it at the time. And, no surprise, I never got down to X.
That should have been clue #1 that I was aiming for the unattainable/unmaintainable for myself. Sure, it seemed reasonable, but it just wasn’t. Not for me, not for my build. Not without starving myself. (And if you know me, you know there was no way I was going to do that. I might have been restrictive/choosy for a while there, but I could never deprive myself of food. I love it too much).
Then when I saw the scale go up a little, I’d freak out and over-react and go into “I’m fat mode” again in my head … which, naturally, did nothing but put my anxiety into overdrive. Continue reading “The Girl Who Cried Wolf”→
This past weekend when I was home, I did a side-by-side comparison of a photo of me at my slimmest (summer 2005) hanging in a family collage in my bedroom and of a photo of me at the wedding in Oaxaca in my purple dress this past March.
The cuts of the dresses being nearly equal, I was shocked to see that, although the scale tells me I have gained about 15 lbs since my lightest … I didn’t look all that different and, in fact, my shoulders looked good and square and my face didn’t look terribly different, either (ok, full disclosure: much better make-up now 😉 I’m a BareMinerals freak!).
Don’t get me wrong; I know I’ve gained and I can see exactly where (more padding on my hips, a thicker/ less defined waist, my ribs don’t stick out as much as they used to —hello, perhaps they never should have!?) but all in all, I didn’t look that dramatically different. And that, dear readers, was a shock to me.
I’ve focused so much on the whole “Yes, I’ve gained!” that sometimes I wonder if the weight just distributed itself somehow. Tangibly, it’s on my body … but it doesn’t look as bad as I guess I envision. Continue reading “Making Amends”→
I saw The Women this past weekend, a re-make about both friendship and trust … as well as betrayal and loss.
Aside from it being a terrible movie with an all-star cast that was both poorly scripted/delivered and under-acted (or over-acted, depending on the character), it did nothing to help young women’s body image issues.
For a movie is written by a woman, and that only stars women (in fact, there’s one one male in the entire film and he makes his guest appearance in the delivery room!) you’d think it would have been the perfect opportunity to make some strides in this department, showcase some “she-woman body-love power!”.
This past weekend was the first that felt “like fall,” and since all the new fall fashions are out, I couldn’t be happier.
Autumn is my absolute favorite season. To me, fall is “back to school,” the Jewish new year, my birthday, my anniversary. And then there’s the chilly morning runs outside, vibrant foliage, raking leaves (awesome exercise), hot cocoa, football, apple picking, pumpkin carving, haunted hay rides …
I just love everything about it, but most of all, I love wearing fall clothes that are in “my colors.” As a red-head, I can’t wear the brights and bolds of spring/summer with ease. I’m much more comfortable in earthy tones, dark neutrals.
And I adore fall fabrics.
Give me sturdy handbags, soft sweaters, fitted button-downs, cords, tights, wool pencil skirts, wrap dresses, tall boots, fleece jackets, cozy hoodies, tweed dress pants, leather coats and belted trenches. I’ll take them any day over summer’s offerings of flimsy, flirty, barely-there fare.
Shopping for such goodies gives me a high that even rich dark chocolate can’t top.