I didn't get up this morning planning to eat four Starbucks cake pops. Truth be told, they are kind of disgusting. Which added to my disgusting feeling of disgust with myself.
I was going to eat clean today. Maybe even vegetarian. Drink lots of water. Walk a lot. Be a good human. Not a disgusting one.
Nope. Didn't happen. Might happen tomorrow. Not having a job or a schedule isn't good for my health. I do better when I have deadlines, schedules and plans. Left to my own devices I am a walking disaster.
You may have noticed (and by 'you' I mean me because I don't think anyone reads this blod any longer) that I've begun to be brutally honest in my blogging. Not that I wasn't honest in my past ten to fifteen years of blogging, I was. But this time it's different. I'm not hiding the blemishes, the stains on the carpeting from spilled milk that was left too long, cheerios down seat cushions or my many weaknesses. So, so very many weaknesses.
I just got back from taking my grandson to his therapy group. It's designed especially for kiddos with autism. He's made amazing progress and his vocbulary has increased. He's gotten much better at making eye contact. I delight in his face when he sees me after class, his grin as he races out the door to me in the hall and throws himself into my arms. His tiny arms wrap around my neck, he nuzzles his head on my shoulder and hangs on for dear life. My back is not too happy about the added weight in my arms but I am loathe to put him down. I love this little man so very much. With each new word, with each new milestone and with each precious grin my heart melts even more. I am blessed to have this lil guy in my life.
This is what I loved about having little ones. They loved me with such enthusiasm, such innocence. They hadn't yet learned from the world that anyone not conforming to specific body type was unworthy of love or acceptance. When I was going to have my third child I wanted my husband to bring a picture of him with our children to the hospital so I could put it on my bedside table. I wanted the nursing staff to see that I was indeed a real person, that real people loved, that I had a handsome and kind husband and two beautiful height-weight proportionate children. I was worthy of being treated as a human being. I wanted this because for most of the public I was not worthy of being treated kindly as a fellow human being. I thought if they could see that others loved me, that they might look past my crippling hideousity (Is that a word?) and be kind.
I've gotten better at accepting myself---the inner me. I know who I am. Aging brings gifts like self-acceptance, understanding, a better perspective on things and hot flashes. What it hasn't entirely done for me is allow me to ignore the stares, the side-eyes, the words that people feel free to impart to me about my size. It's as though some people feel it's their duty to shame me because that will certainly make me do what is healthy. PSA--it doesn't work. It only serves to futher drive down my self-worth, self-esteem and desire for something crunchy.
I'm grateful for a loving husband that appears to be blind to my many faults. He is the kindest, most compassionate person I've ever met. He loves me for me. And that's saying something. I truly believe he loves like our Savior loves--without conditions or judgement. I try to be more like him. My heart is not as pure as his---but I'm learning. I'm trying. We are having our 29th wedding anniversary next week---33 years together. I must have done something right to have been worthy to have him as my better half.
No more cake pops. I promise.