You’ve spent your whole life convincing yourself of things.
He’s not a bad boy. He loves you. He puts his poison in your mouth and you drink it because he doesn’t hit you. He knows you. He loves you more than all the rest.
I can live without you.
They won’t notice your body-big and blooming. They will notice the hard-fought poem that kept you up last night-the slant rhyme, the image, the effortless onomatopoeia.
I can live without you.
He will do what he says. She means what she says. They will do the right thing.
I can live without you.
He can’t live without me. I am a tether to this earth, and he must hold on.
I can live without you.
Your value is not defined by the weight of your mattress. It can hold one. It can hold only you.
I can live without you.
He is a good man. He will do the right thing. He will mean what he says. He will do what he is supposed to do. He will shelter me. He will protect me.
You’ve spent your whole life convincing yourself of things.
And then one day you stop.
They will notice only your body. He is not a good boy, man, woman. He will not mean what he says. She will not be honest with you. You will need to protect you. Your value is defined by the throb of your heart-broken or whole.
You can live without him. You can live without her.
You know how to survive now.
This is 39.
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Amye Archer is 39. She is the author of Fat Girl, Skinny, a memoir about skinny jeans, Weight Watchers meetings, and horrible life choices. Follow her at @amyearcher
So each year around this time my twin girls have a birthday. This year they are turning six. Six. I can hardly believe it. And each year I write some overly mushy blog post about how much I’ve learned about my girls, how much they’ve grown, and how amazed I am by their beauty. But this year is different. I haven’t just learned about them, I’ve learned about me. I’ve redefined my role as a mother in a way I never have before. And I owe it all to my no-scale diet.
You may recall that back in September I smashed my scale to bits and decided to free myself from its grip. It’s been three months now and I have never felt better. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a mind-blowing euphoria on a daily basis, I don’t wake up feeling like the sun has risen solely for me, rather its an ease with which I haven’t lived life in a long, long time. Remember the days when you used to exercise because it was fun? Or you ate an apple a day because it was healthy? I’m at that point.
I’m more tuned in to my kids, I’m more present. I’m enjoying them on a whole new level because I’m enjoying everything on a whole new level. I’m leading by example and it feels great. And I’m not the only one. Women everywhere are starting to break the chains that bind them. Read this post on Jezebel if you have any doubt that women are starting to get the message.
So this year, as my girls cross the threshold from Toddler into “little girl-dom” I can honestly say this has been our best year yet.
By the way, I will not disappoint… The mushy post will be coming. Stay tuned.
Today I embark on another leg of my journey to freedom. I’m saying goodbye to an old friend with whom I have the unhealthiest relationship in my life. A friend who makes me feel terrible about myself. A friend who I both loathe and so desperately need.
I’m ditching my scale bitches!
A few weeks ago I asked you to mark up your scales, and I’ve been getting some great pics, like this one from Heather:
Thanks to all of you who sent pics, I will be announcing a winner in a few days. If you haven’t yet, you can still send your pic to amye@amyearcher.com.
I’m taking this scale destruction one step further. I’m ditching mine. Starting September 1st, I pledge to you and to myself- that for one year I will not weigh myself. I will not measure myself with a tape measure, I will refuse to get weighed at the doctor’s office. I will live a year without weights and measures, focusing instead on happy thoughts, healthy thoughts, and healthy habits.
Stay tuned for the video…. (Yeah, there’s going to be a video.)
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 have a million pictures like this one… adorable family pics, minus me.
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.
The Bob!
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!
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