The world has basically been shut down for over a year – everybody (and probably everybody’s dog) has been trying to cope with the changes. Lots of us have been snacking, loafing, netflixing and packing on the pounds. I for one have gained (amassed, incorporated) twenty.
These pounds weren’t even sneaky – it seemed calories opened a savings account around my middle and were gleefully making deposits every day for the past twelve months. It’s not that I didn’t notice – I just didn’t care. But I’m caring now.
I fight a constant battle with myself and my girth. I’ve blogged about the same twenty pounds so often I’ve given them celebrity they don’t deserve. Weight is a real issue for me – I’m not even sure loosing it can actually fix the problem I have with it.
Covid has brought many negative changes to the world but it has also provided some weird opportunities. In the quiet of disconnection was an opportunity for introspection. I’ve been introspecting on my surplus for quite some time – I think part of me was hoping I could think the pounds away – another part of me was looking for acceptance of them. I have not been successful in either pursuit.
What I did find on my quest was the fact I needed to take a quest – I learned I’ve been pursuing the wrong goal. Weight isn’t my problem, self image is. My mirror has never cooperated – for all the diets, all the beauty crazes, all the superficial effort – the image I have of myself has not improved with age.
Aging and improving don’t usually go hand in hand – not outwardly anyway. Inwardly age and improvement can almost be synonymous (as long as you’re not letting yourself turn into a cranky old lady). During my introspection I realized there is a difference between me and my eating disorder’s view on excess weight (even if the disorder is dormant it is always there) and other people’s view. When other people look in a mirror they might hate being fat – when I look in the mirror I hate Elva for being fat. A subtle and huge difference in point of view.
I quested myself to a cross road. Standing on the corner of Self-loath and Go Easy On Yourself I’ve decided to take a road less traveled. I still don’t love myself or my excess baggage but I’m going to try. I’m going to try to acknowledge and accept myself as a person with a problem. I’m going to try to stop beating myself up. I’m going to try to go after these excess pounds gently (despite the voice in my head whispering ‘fat chance’).