My default is unacceptance.
I learned this yesterday from Bob Greene (although he didn't say this and his talk was actually fairly mediocre). I saw Suze Orman and Bob Greene at Denver's Lady Fest (or something like that). Suze told me annuities are evil. Bob told me that happiness doesn't start at a size 4.
Trust me: A girl who battled hard to get to a size 4, that he's right. It doesn't. But this really isn't about weight. For me, it's about self acceptance. A little background: My weight has always bounced all over the place, then several years ago, I took myself firmly in hand and dragged myself kicking and screaming down to a size 4. (My goal had been an 8.)
And I didn't become miraculously happy at 4; I didn't even stop to look at the sign posts, I just kept going, knowing I couldn't be OK yet. (That picture above was taken when I had gotten to a size 4 and, upon viewing it, determined that I'd better keep on working.)
I realized it yesterday: I always simply assume I'm not OK. I don't stop to diagnose the situation. My default is simply rejection. I look at myself and yell out, like Suzie Orman, "DENIED!" Still not good enough. Nope. Never will be.
Guys don't seem to do this. They look at thier 50-pound bowling ball belly, slick their hands back through their greasy hair, and say, "Yep, baby, still got it."
Oh for the confidence of a man. I stopped yesterday and asked myself, am I OK? Honestly, if I lost any more weight, my technically an A-Cup endowment would be back to a training bra. (These things have had 18 years in training--I don't think they're gonna figure it out now.)
So can I be OK with myself? As is? No more, "if I just firm this up or lose this." Just acceptance?
I gotta tell you--that's the scariest thing I can think of. I don't do acceptance. I don't know how. What would it be like to get up every day and say, "You're allright, Amber"? That unknown is terrifying. I don't know what I'm afraid of, but my disapproval is my crutch. I carry myself around on it all day long. Suddenly I'd have to carry my own weight. Own myself. Endorse myself, endowments or no.
And I don't know how to do that.
Maybe when I'm 30. I've heard 30 has miraculous powers. Perhaps on July 12th I'll wake up a confident, powerful woman...