My my, how things change...
Guess what? I've reached my pre-hedgehog weight. Amazing right? (insert big sigh and feelings of self loathing here).
A funny thing happened while I was pregnant. I looked back on pre-pregnancy photos of myself and realised that I was actually a lot skinnier than I had ever let myself believe. I promised myself that after I had my baby and returned to my pre-pregnancy self, I would be kinder to my reflection. I would wear my skinny jeans with pride, ignore the bumps and lumps that are often invisible to other people and stop myself from buying 'Bridget Jones' underwear and get shopping on Victoria's Secret instead.
With all this in mind, I've been actively chasing the demons of my pregnancy off my body. All those toasted cheese sandwiches, chocolate milkshakes and banana bread - slowly (mindnumbingly slowly) falling off my body with each push of the pram and lift of the Hedgehog. It took just 40 weeks to gain the 20 kilos that I added to my body during pregnancy and has taken 36 weeks to lose them. Weird considering tabloids are constantly screaming headlines of A-List celebs being back to their pre-baby figures the second they deliver their gobsmakingly beautiful children. Thank you Who Weekly for my unrealistic views of just how this weight loss challenge would unfold.
With all this hard work and the promise of being kinder to myself, you would think that I would be celebrating that magical number flashing up at me from my scales this morning. Sadly, it seems that while weight can be lost, insecurities and allergies to all things reflection related cannot.
I've lost weight before. When I was 25, I weighed close to 90 kilos. One New Years day I woke up and decided that I didn't want to be a size 16 and would try and be a size 14 by Easter. I started walking every day and ate according to the CSIRO diet. By Easter time I was a size 12. Not content with that number, I pushed and pushed myself until I reached my goal weight, 62 kilos. Again, you would think that I would celebrate that achievement. Wrong. I decided that 58 was a better kilo to weigh and pushed and pushed until FINALLY, I reached that goal too. 58 was my wedding day weight and you would think that on my wedding day, dressed in a hellishly expensive size 8 gown, I would finally be pleased with myself. Wrong! I promised that as soon as I returned from my honeymoon, I would aim for 55.
I've never gone below 58. I know in my heart that lots of people would cry with happiness at seeing that number blink at them from their scales. I know that I am healthy and fit and can buy clothes from almost any store my credit card allows. I rationally tell myself that strangers aren't assessing the width of my hips and wobble of my arms as I walk by. Yet all of these rational thoughts can't silence that little voice in my head that says, "you shouldn't have eaten that" or "don't you think you'd be better off with a slice of celery".
Before you roll your eyes for the seventh time since visiting this blog, this post is not an online confessional dedicated to my appearance. I'm simply voicing what I know 99% of the female population are feeling. Jennifer Hawkins is the 1% exception. I read recently that she is happy in the skin she is in. What a relief! If 'our Jen' couldn't love herself sick, who can?!
I've known hundreds of beautiful women in my life. I've spent hours marvelling at their sense of style, charisma and general aura. I've envied their wit and humour. I've witnessed them turn heads as they cross the street or simply walk into a room. Do I know the number on their clothing tag? Have I ever asked them how much they weigh? Have I ever wondered what they would look like if they lost a little weight? No, so why do we constantly think this of ourselves?
I'm not sure that I will ever celebrate my body with wild abandon. Do any of us? And if we don't, why?
You've probably heard this before but, imagine if we let a friend talk to us they way we inwardly speak to ourselves. We'd ditch them in a heart beat right? Goodness and Gracious is all about finding the good. I've quoted Ellen de Generes and her request for us to be kind to one another. How about we look inwards and be a little kind to ourselves? How about we revisit our Childhood and celebrate our chubby cheeks, dimpley thighs and a wobbly tooshes? Perhaps we could accept a little wiggle and embrace our curves? No diets - no shakes - no despairing at the sight of a kilo creeping onto our hips. Simply an acceptance of who we are and acknowledging that we're all alright.
I'll go first... I may not look incredible in a bikini right now, but am totally amazing in my new winter wardrobe. Scarves are my friend and layers make me happy.
What do you think? Are you in? What will you do to celebrate your flawed yet beautiful appearance?
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