I Want to Smash My Mirrors

This post has nothing to do with midwifery. It has nothing to do with apprenticeship. This post is deeply personal and is just about me, because this blog is also my diary and what I use sometimes to purge my thoughts.

It's funny how I think other women are so beautiful in all their shapes and sizes. I love my pregnant mommies, the ones with the stretch marks, and the ones with the smooth bellies, equally deeply. I have good dear friends that are so soft and nice to hug, that have such voluptuous lovely soft bodies, and I admire them and think they are beautiful. So, why am I such a harsh judge of myself?

Every time I look in my mirror I am shocked. Every. Single. Time. By how fat I freakin' am. I have never been this big. My arms are big, my legs are big, and my stomach is freakin' huge.

I have gone through fat and thin, fat and thin all my life. I was 104 pounds and a size 0 when I got married, got fat during my second pregnancy, and after my 2nd child, when I became anorexic and exercised like a maniac I was very thin again. Then I got fat with my fifth and had a c-section that left me with a permanent pannus no matter how thin I get.

I worked with a trainer for three months in the fall of '05, didn't lose any pounds, but got back down to a size 8 and wore a bikini in St. Lucia that winter and felt good about it. Then I had a miscarriage. DH didn't want to try again, didn't want that baby to begin with, and I went into an emotional tailspin. I quit exercising, started emotional eating, and well, got fat again.

Now, here I am at 165 pounds 7 months after the birth of my youngest. I can't fit into most of my 12s. I feel naked and exposed in shorts and tank tops because of my fat. I can't see my feet or my pubic hair because of my belly.

I have a picture in my head of how I look, then whenever I see myself in a mirror I am totally shocked that it is me.

DH says he doesn't care. His actions show he doesn't.

I teach nutrition, I know all about exercise. I was getting ready to compete in a Miss Fitness competition when I got pregnant with my third and needed to stop the intensive training.

So, I know it can be done. I know what it takes. We even have a Y membership. The task is just so big, and I know how long it will take, I just can't make myself do it. I have all sorts of excuses of why I don't go exercise, everything from my asthma, fatigue, Posie doesn't like the nursery, etc.

The fact is, I am overwhelmed and lazy. And depressed. My best friend is a twig. And I love her deeply. Another friend is a soft, voluptuous woman who is even heavier than I am, and I think she's gorgeous. Truly. So why do I hate myself so bad when I see myself in the mirror?