Wednesday, June 23, 2010


I am reclined in my beach chair, toes shoved into warm sand, relishing the breeze on my face and body when hubby finally spots THE ONE. He's been on girl watch since we've arrived. "That's what you're gonna look like a year after your surgery." And with total assurance and calm acceptance, he believes this. He has total faith in me. He actually thinks I can do this whole lapband surgery thing. And I study mystery woman under cover of my dark shades. Yes-she is lovely. With a sturdy, toned, athletic build that is pleasing, healthy, and real-not all sharp hip bones and rib cage and knock knees. Maybe I did look like that in another lifetime-hubby assures me I did. But I don't remember. Because I have always felt fat. Since before kindergarten. Even as I look back at pictures now, I realize my body image has always been skewed by the voices in the my head. But here's the deal: NOW, I really am fat. And unhealthy. And I am as far from an ideal, healthy weight as I have ever been. But curiously, as I study mystery woman, I feel...nothing. No envy, no excitement, no sharp longing or desire. Because that deep, resonant voice that lives within my core whispers: not a chance! you don't deserve that. you know you're just gonna fuck it up eventually... Now THAT is TRUTH. I always fuck it up eventually. So looking into the future and using mystery woman as my "mirror," ... well mirrors are a bitch. As a matter of fact I haven't really looked into a mirror long??? I am a pro at putting on make up and dressing in the dark. Because mirrors will hurt you. And mock you. Mirror-Mirror on the wall, who's the fattest of them all???

As these fleeting thoughts scurry across my subconscious, I squeeze hubby's hand. And I am grateful. Because his faith and love sustain me. My own have failed me long, long ago. But I continue to trudge down this path. Skeptical... unsure...afraid... but resolved to the unknown. Maybe this time...

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