A few weeks ago I posted about our upcoming trip to Hawaii (Road to Paradise). I complained about being overweight, but said I wasn’t going to worry about it. Oh, how I wish that were true. It may have been my intention, but there’s no way around it. It is on my mind. Not that it will ruin my vacation because I know it won’t. But it’s still there.
I had an interesting (if not very common with women) conversation with my friend, Terri, on Sunday. She had asked a friend why this friend never told her she was fat. Her friend responded, “I don’t see you as fat.” And she’s not fat! But her perception of herself and our perception of her are very different. How many people do you know whose physical appearance has been transformed when you get to know them? Pretty soon you see their spirit and not them. (Though I confess to noticing pretty clothes and nice hair).
But I don’t trust others to see me that way. I certainly don’t see me that way. I look in the mirror or at a picture of me and all I see is a person I don’t recognize. I want to scream, “This is not me!! I am NOT this person!!”
I had gained the majority of my weight before I moved to Pennsylvania so this is all anyone here knows. I told Terri that I feel like nobody up here knows the real me. Not one person has made me feel judged on my appearance, and yet for some reason I think about it.
I’m a very open and honest person. I don’t know how to be otherwise. There are certain things I may not talk about, but for the most part I’ll tell you anything you want to know. And stuff you don’t want to know, as evidenced by this blog. Terri said, “Oh, we know the real you.” And I know she’s right. This is me. The real me.
The stupidity of these thoughts is epic. I have made wonderful friends up here, both in church and in the neighborhood. They see through my physical appearance and like me for who I am. And what kind of arrogance do I have to think I’m the only one who likes people for their insides, not their outsides?
I’ve always said if someone doesn’t like me because of the way I look then I don’t want to be their friend anyway. Why would I want to hang out with someone that shallow and petty? And I truly mean it. So why do I care??
Thankfully this negativity doesn’t consume me. Oh, I probably think about it more than I should, but it doesn’t keep me from being happy. I know where my joy lies and it certainly isn’t in what size clothes I wear.
Maybe I’ll lose the weight someday. I would like to be healthier and I’m pretty sure I would feel better. But I wonder what I’ll think about then.