“No, I’m not,” I said. “I’m too scared to even try.”
He took my hand and led me to the seat. “Honey.” He rubbed the top of my hand. “Yes, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to fit.”
“No, I’m not. I just know it,” I said as I looked around to see how many people could see what was going on here: fat girl is going to try and stuff her butt in the chair ... again.
I slowly approached the stupid green chair that looked like the smallest chair in the entire world. There was just no way these legs and this butt were going to cram into it ... there’s justno way. Okay, the plan is I’m going to sit down really fast and then run away crying.
Well, I sat down and ... holy hell and a baby goat,I FIT!I think my face looked like I’d just won the lottery. Boom! I was going on this ride. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Another strange phenomenon from that recent trip was my lack of clothing. For my entire life, the more weight I put on, the more clothes I would put on to cover up. Who would want to see my body, my skin, and my pain when I could just cover it all up? Even during hot as balls summers I often layered on the clothes or wore jeans just to cover up my body. I think this was partially out of shame, and maybe something lingering from abuse, as well as just plain old wanting to hide.
This trip though, Karri wouldn’t let me get away with that. She’s always encouraging me to be bold with my style. She and I talked about our clothing for several weeks prior to the trip, trying to figure out what would be most comfortable for me to wear. Maybe maxi dresses? Capris? Bathing suits had to have skirts and maybe even a rash guard ... whatever I could find to cover up, essentially. Then, right before we planned to leave, Swimsuits For All contacted me, asking me to shoot some selfies for them.
Me?WHAT?!
I know, I know, it was hard for me to believe too. But they really did. So when I talked to them they told me I could pick from any of the suits on their site. How awesome was that? I asked Karri and she said IREALLYneeded a bikini, and one of the suits designed by Ashley Graham (total girl crush). GAH! Okay, maybe I could go a little crazy and try on one of those suits. What’s the absolute worst that could happen? I would NEVER wear it in public, but I could at very least wear it in the bedroom for Mr. Wilder (More on that later, in chapter 12).
I took the leap and ordered some bathing suits I would have never, ever have imagined I could ever wear. Guess what? Yep, you know. You saw it on Instagram, right? Not only did I LOVE those suits, but I also sported them on the beautiful Florida beach with my husband. I did wear a sheer cover-up most of the time on my lower half, but this was a great, big,hugedeal for me. I felt a tiny bit free and a tiny bit weird. Not like creepy weird, but more like the good/different sort of weird. A weird that might be good for me.
So, maybe I didn’t need to be all covered up all the time. Maybe I was getting stronger inside and out. Maybe strong comes from little acts of bravery, starting from the outside in. When I look in the mirror these days, I don’t always recognize myself. My doctor suggested taking lots of photos until the person in the mirror and the person I see in my head looks more like the person living in my body; it’s an odd thing to try to come to grips with.
I’ve been one shape, one form, one very defined thing for so long that this new creature might take some time to get used to. She might take more time to appreciate. She might be a bit bolder, but also a bit more self-aware. She’s learning to accept the new dips and arches of her body.
It’s a good thing.
If you’ve lost a significant amount of weight, I recommend you give your body grace, and give yourself time. If this journey has taught me anything, it’s that I really wasn’t very kind to my body, and that it’s very hard for me to ignore all of the very loud and negative things that my head is constantly yelling:
You’re ugly.
You’re still fat.
You have big feet.
Your nose is crooked.
Your loose, hanging skin is gross.
Your hips are too wide.
Those scars are so red, so deep.
It’s funny how it is hard to write those things, but it is so easy to say them to myself. The fact is these voices, these lies, theyDOleave marks. They do change us. This is why I’ve learned to talk back, to force my head and heart to hear the truth and not just believe the constant negative string of self-abuse radio that’s always playing in the background. Now, I think: what would Jack say?
He’d say:
You’re beautiful.
You’re strong.
Your feet have carried you many, many miles.
Your nose, your eyes, your lips are perfect.
I love to touch your skin; it’s so warm and soft.
Your hips are so curvy and sexy.
I don’t even see those scars—I only seeyou.
How would your beloved talk about the things you most try to hide, that you’re most critical of? My guess is your partner is less harsh on you than you are on yourself. Whatever the current state of your body, no matter where you are on the journey, be kind to yourself and to your body. Nothing is going to change overnight, but I think if we can turn the negative to the positive, the better we will feel, the stronger we will be and the happier we will be.
The old Jasinda is still here, but she’s also different now. She’s still blue moon, but maybe with a side of superwoman too!
PRO TIP: Always wear what makes you feel good, whatever it is. Just be you.
