It's Merely the Shell of My Soul, So What's the Big Deal?

Wow, I was blown away by Sizzle's latest post. She is such an incredible blogger and what a familiar and painful story. She fully gets the Moxie Mama Seal of Approval for being so brave as to share that.

Her story made me think of my own. I never struggled with my weight until my sophomore year of college. I was date raped (and told no one at that point) and found out a week later that I was on a fraternity's Top Ten Sex List. (Yes, my rapist was in the frat). This sent me spiraling out of control. Over the next year I gained 60 pounds to hide myself away so that would never happen to me again.

Over the last 11 and a half years I've yoyo-ed all over the scale from 132 to 230. I'm not kidding. The scariest part was when I was nine months pregnant with Darling Daughter and STILL 30 pounds lighter than when I was at my heaviest.

While Handsome Hubby has never made an issue of my weight (He says, "My love for you only comes in one size: XXL") my family has always badgered me about it. My mother destroyed what little self esteem I had left after the rape and it's only been through Handsome's constant support and the love of my friends that I've healed that part of my life.

I hate dieting. I'm still doing it, I'm almost within spitting distance of a healthy BMI and have just 30 pounds to go to my ideal weight. But even when I get there, I know that I'm going to struggle with this for the rest of my life. And that's so depressing.

One of my favorite John Denver (I know, cheesy, but I love him) songs is called "Eagles and Horses". One of my favorite lines is, "My body is merely the shell of my soul, but the flesh must be given it's due"

For me, this means not losing weight to be attractive, but losing weight to be healthy. When I'm heavy, there are times I get depressed looking in the mirror and have to remind myself that my body is just the shell of my soul, the part of me that REALLY matters is inside.

So what's society's hang up with weight? Some of the most beautiful women I know aren't a size 5 (or even a size 16). My friend and I used to kid that if we were in a Reubenesque painting, we'd be super models.

I worry about Darling Daughter. While she's 3 and a perfectly healthy weight, I hope I'm always able to let her know that she is beautiful deep down inside of her even if she doesn't look like Hannah Montana (or whoever it is by then).

Just my random thoughts as I contemplate my Healthy Choice frozen lunch...sigh.