love thyself

The other night, I went clothes shopping with my younger sister. It wasn’t fun.

It wasn’t the company that ruined the trip, Christy was a blast, it was my body that wasn’t very nice. The last time I shopped without a baby inside of me was about a year ago, and things were quite different then. I was probably the thinnest I’ve ever been in my adult life, and clothes fit me like a dream.

Am I coming off vain? It’s probably because to some degree, I am. I mean, aren’t we all?

I like clothes… I enjoy the vast possibilities that clothes give a person to express themselves. I’m not talking about collecting designer labels and spending massive amounts of cash on pieces that don’t deserve the price tag attached. I’m talking about being creative with articles of clothing that you find at Goodwill, or Target, or even… Forever 21. (I know I shouldn’t shop there… it’s hard for me to stop ok!?)

Working in the fashion industry for so long, I learned a lot about clothes. I learned to never let a number dictate how you shop. Buy something because it fits right, don’t go home crying because you tried a 5 on in one shop but the next shop you were in a 9. These numbers mean nothing. It is really up to the manufacturer as to what little magic/evil number to put on their sizing labels. Most major clothing lines use small numbers for bigger sizes to make shoppers feel better about themselves, thus buying more. It’s a smart strategy that works! I however, worked for a company based out of Italy, and let me tell you right now, European sizes are a whole different ballgame. There were many a crying woman I talked down from the ledge and into a great pair of jeans because she “wore a size 25 waist at (fill in the shop name of your choice) and now she’s in a 29!” by explaining the evil ways of clothing companies.

As much as I understand this marketing ploy, I’m still a sucker for fitting into small numbers.

You see, I have been 5’11″ since I was 12 years old. I’ve always weighed about 10-20lbs more than my girlfriends, because I’ve usually had 2-9 inches on them. When you are 13, this is a LITTLE hard to deal with, and by a little, I mean a LOT!

I never had a lot of boyfriends, apparently a tall blonde girl intimidates young pubescent boys finding their gumption to even look a girl in the eye when talking to her, let alone stand on his tiptoes to ask her to a movie. So that didn’t really help my self-esteem, and don’t even get me started on my shoe size. I hate any girl with a size 5 foot. Not really, I’m just super jealous they can wear all the cute shoes that my big ol’ feet wouldn’t dream of making a fool of. (You know you’ve all seen that woman with HUGE feet in shoes that look like they are being used as torture devices rather than fashion statements.)

After years of not liking my height, I got used to it, and I embraced it. I liked myself (somewhat) and was happy with how I looked, then I had a baby. A baby that came out healthy, and beautiful and perfect, and she did a number on my body. I gained 35lbs by the end of the pregnancy, and I lost 20 of that by the time I went in for my 2 week post partum checkup. It’s the last 15 I’m having a hard time with.

Now, I’m fully aware that you hate me at this point of the blog. I didn’t gain that much during my pregnancy, it was a healthy amount, and I carried it really well. I have been breastfeeding, which helps the pounds fall off, and I really don’t have it that bad.

That is my point. I can’t even be happy with the fact that there is nothing for me to fret over.

I will have moments of clarity where I realize that my body is pretty darn close to where it was before baby, and I am lucky. Lots of women have a hard time shedding the baby weight. I need to get over myself and be happy.

During our shopping trip I think my sister was going to knock my block off if I had said “I wish I was still my old size!” one more time, but after the umpteenth time of saying something along those lines she turned around, sternly looked at me and said “You are not fat, shut up already!”

So why am I laying out my body issues for all to see? Because I just had a daughter, and that scares me. How will I even come close to teaching her to love herself no matter what the media tells her to look like if I can’t do it myself?

Here are my ideas:

I will ATTEMPT to focus on my health, not my waist size.

I will ATTEMPT to not complain about how I look in front of her.

I will ATTEMPT to be confident in myself no matter my size.

I will ATTEMPT to have my actions speak louder than my words.

I know that it is inevitable for her to have some faulty view of her body because of movies and photo shopped pictures in magazines, but I will try my damnedest to lift her up and help her focus on her mind and her spirituality and her happiness. I named her Finley for a reason, it means fair warrior. I want my little girl to grow up to be strong and fight this world along with all the other strong women in my family.

The best way I can do that, is by living that way myself.

This is an artist that inspires all that confidence stuff I’m talking about. She’s not your typical beauty, but I think she’s gorgeous.

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