I have been gone for some time. Gone from the land wherein I am progressing toward beauty. I had given up that there was any hope for me to even progress toward beauty, let alone actually land in it. Beauty being my “ideal” weight.
I stopped looking at the numbers for a long time. And then, I stopped looking at myself. I just couldn’t bear that I had let myself down, yet again, on this weight thing.
Then… awarenesses started eeking into my brain. And people started nudging and dropping hints about me, my physical form. It was all appropriately timed in moments when I felt safe and strong and open. I received all the awarenesses and nudges and hints with grace and appreciation.
Then, I was given the challenge to write a new script for myself.
“What would your life look like, Angie,” one of my mentors asked, his partner nodding in agreement, “if you were living the life you want and if you looked like what you want? I think we are all going to be surprised when you write a new script for yourself. Can you commit to that?”
I nodded, feeling excited and scare and hopeful all at once. For the first time in a long time, I felt hopeful.
So, that very night, I began to write my new script. And, suddenly, I see what it means to “be the change you want to be in the world.” My new script is already taking over with breathtaking clarity. I would like to share the part that of my script that has already begun. When I wrote it, I had not yet done what I wrote about, although I had gotten on the scales and they had blared the truth at me. The next morning, however, the words I had written the night before popped in my head and I tried it. I think it is important to note that the day I speak of was just Tuesday morning, August 21. This morning, just for fun, I got on the scale and it read 198.8 – a five pound loss!
The day I decided to take charge of my life and get real with what was, I stepped on the scale and weighed 203 pounds. That day, I loved myself at that weight. I looked at myself in the mirror, smiled and said, “I love you.” It was foreign at first and I felt really, really silly. So I kept doing it. I added appreciation to it, “I love you, Angie and appreciate you for your courage to take on this experience with fat.”
Then, even though I felt exceedingly ridiculous, I added appreciation to the fat, “I love you, Angie and appreciate you for your courage to take on this experience with fat. And, fat, I appreciate your willingness to carry my projections that it is your fault I’m not what I want, don’t have what I want and am not with who I want.”
I became aware that, as I let the other Me go, I felt sad, as though I was grieving the death of a dear loved one and I was surprised by this. That fat had been a part of me for almost half my life. I was used to having her around. She was a constant in an ever-changing world. My other Me was someone who would never let me down. She wouldn’t beat me up. She wouldn’t spit in my face. She wouldn’t call me names or look down her nose at me. She was there with me. Always. And, while she was not doing any of those things, she was also not serving me. She was just there, kind of quiet and not very interactive. But, still, she was a comfort, a presence that was always there….