When was the last time you truly didn’t care about your weight? Not in a “I give up, let’s pile it on” kind of way, but a carefree, happy kind of way?
It occurred to me weeks ago that the only time in my life I was ever truly at peace with my body was when I was pregnant. I ate very healthy, was conscious of everything I put in my body, exercised, and only treated myself to sweets or junk food on rare occasions. But the most important aspect of that time was that I didn’t care what anyone else thought about my body. I was growing my babies, I was doing something greater. My weight transcended the shallow plane of society. I was becoming a mom. I think about this time period often, and how successful my mind-body connection was. (I only gained 25 pounds, with twins that’s close to a miracle!) I was successful because I was focusing on health rather than weight.
I compare that time period with the rest of my life which seems to go like this: I won’t get family pictures taken until I lose more weight (my kids are almost six and still there are almost no pictures of us together in existence), I won’t put on a bathing suit on the beach until I lose weight, I won’t wear a tank top–ever, I won’t, I won’t, I won’t… see the difference? My weight holds me back from living my life. It’s like someone implanted a chip in my brain and that chip has stunted my entire life.
So, I wondered to myself, could I ever get back to that place where my mind is more powerful than my body? Could I live in a state where my health carries more weight than my heft? Thus, the Freedom Pact was born.
The Freedom Pact is a new pledge I am making to myself. It works like this.
For the next six months I pledge to follow these three rules:
1. I will think and act like a thin person.
2. I will focus on eating healthy.
3. I won’t give a SHIT about what others think.
This past weekend I went to the beach and put these three rules into practice. I wore a bathing suit on the beach and had a BLAST with my daughters in the ocean. I wore a tank top on the boardwalk and no passerby’s stopped to laugh at me and no small children were harmed by my arm-fat jiggle. And I took pictures! Yes, I took two pictures of my children that I’m actually in! Then, when I got home, I cut my hair into a cute little bob, something I never would have done before since I always thought I was too heavy to pull that off. I guess in my brain I actually thought that some police force maintained the balance between the fat and the skinny, and that if I started doing skinny things like cutting my hair short and wearing tank tops, that I would be thrown down for upsetting the balance. To say this out loud sounds ridiculous, but I know if you’re reading this and you’re heavy, you know EXACTLY what I ‘m talking about.
Needless to say, shedding the psychological chains that have been holding me back for so long felt liberating. But I still have a long road ahead of me. That self-poisoning dialogue is still in my head, it still plays quietly in the background of my life. The transition to full-on freedom won’t happen overnight, but I’m making the effort and putting one fat foot in front of the other each day. I’ll let you know how it goes!