Flipping the Switch

More to be

What gives a person their worth? What makes a person matter? What should a person be remembered for?

I might not know all the correct answers, but I do know the incorrect one: how a person looks.

Your purpose in life is not:

• to wear a smaller dress size.
• to be an ornament that other people like to look at.
• to fulfill the sexual expectations of other men and women
• to feel shame about the parts of your body that aren't "perfect"
• to apologize to perfect strangers because you are not thin enough, curvy enough, young enough, or pretty enough to be valuable. 

Every time I have looked in the mirror I have noticed:

• that my breasts are lopsided and deflated looking from pregnancy and childbirth.
• that I have a section of fat that hangs out on top of my butt that makes it look bigger than it actually is when I wear jeans.
• that my arms have red bumps on them.
• that my legs are too short to actually look good wearing a dress
• that my tummy has scarred stretch marks and the skin looks mushy and wrinkly

Can I fix anything from the above list? 

The breasts -- Ummm, surgery I guess? A lift, some implants to even them out?

The fat -- it's been there even when I have lost weight and after running over 20 miles a week and keeping my calorie intake at less than 1300 a day. So, liposuction or coolsculpting, maybe. 

The red bumps -- I've tried creams and exfoliation and washing and not washing. My skin just is red and bumpy there, instead of smooth. So maybe laser treatments with a dermatologist.

The short legs -- high heels. 

Stretch mark tummy -- A time machine, or a tummy tuck, or both.

So I have these problems with my body. Surgery is financially impossible, and I have yet to hear of a surgery that can make my legs longer. So what's the only solution? A while ago, it might have been recommitting to a stricter diet, continuing to research moisturizers and stretch mark serums, and exercising more. Short-term misery to shoe-horn my body into something it isn't. 

And when those fail, the only thing I'm left with is my self-consciousness and intense dislike for my body. Even hatred sometimes.

I have sometimes wished I had the will-power to be anorexic. Yes, I wished I had the physical ability to literally starve myself to death.
I have sometimes wished I could get a disease that causes me to lose weight and finally be thin. Because cancer's not so bad, right, if the chemo makes you thin?
I have sometimes deliberately chosen not to be friends with a thin person because I feel like they don't know how easy they've got it.
I have sometimes hidden the fact that I want a brownie because people will see me eat it and think I shouldn't be eating it if I am overweight. Which means I have personally thought this about fat people.
I have sometimes wished I could switch bodies with a fit, thin person just to see what it would be like.
I have forced myself to throw up after Thanksgiving dinner because I'm too afraid of feeling full and gaining weight.

I could continue on that path, save up for surgery, hope for an eating disorder, and never feel comfortable just being myself again. Or I could flip a switch.

I loved this hike. I have a body that can hike.

What gives a person their worth?

I am a beloved daughter of Heavenly parents, with a divine nature and destiny. 

Just to clarify the above statement, I am created and loved by God. My body, my life, has worth and infinite potential. 

Beauty does not give you worth. 

And again for the people in the back:
BEAUTY DOES NOT GIVE YOU WORTH.

I remember disliking this picture
because I thought my arms looked fat.

What makes a person matter?

To who? To followers on Instagram, strangers on the internet, people who pass me on the street?

Or to my children, my husband, my friends, my neighbors?

I would guess to matter to them, I would try to be there for them, to love them, to teach them and help them and make a difference in their lives for the better. I cannot make that difference if all of my time is spent worrying about how fat my thighs look in these pants and whether or not I can have a slice of birthday cake because of the calories. I might spend a whole day at the pool, and not be able to enjoy playing with my kids, because I'm too self-conscious to be in a swimsuit, so I sit in a cover-up and watch instead. 

I matter too much to stay inside in case people might think I am ugly. 

I freaking made this dress. 

What should a person be remembered for?

What they do. People should be remembered for what they do. What do I want to be remembered for?

Maybe kindness. Or the cool cake I made once for my son's birthday. Or for how I can always make my husband laugh. Or for the goal that I set to do a pull-up, and how great I felt when I reached that goal. Or for the half-marathon I completed. For the kids I got to teach, for the friend I was able to lift up during a hard time, for the work I've done and thoughts I've shared. 

I am not ugly. I have cellulite and thighs like tree trunks and a saggy stomach skin and size 10 jeans. I'm just a person, and people are not ugly, because they don't exist to be looked at. That's not the reason I'm alive.

I like art, and music, and I like to learn new things. I have three beautiful children who love me. I created those children with the body I've spent so much time feeling badly about.

I have a body that can do amazing things. My body can speak, and see, and hear, and act. It can run and lift heavy things and make music and create art. It can learn and grow and heal itself. It can love and recieve love. 

There is more to be than eye candy.