I’m convinced I was a yo-yo in a past life. I mean it, not even a super rad Coca-Cola Limited Edition Gold Plated one, but a stupid red plastic yo-yo you get from the $2 shop. The reason I know this is because I am still displaying characteristics of a yo-yo (and I am not referring to going down). What I’m talking about is my weight.
I know I just need to go walk the dog (we don’t have a dog, I am referring to myself), but instead I just sit around on my big fat bum, eating cheese and drinking wine. I get on the scales every morning to give myself even more of a reason to wallow and then I go straight to the fridge and eat more crap food. It is such a ridiculous bullshit cycle of self sabotage.
Recently, I lost 12 kilos. I was inching closer to my goal weight. I was so proud of myself. I was feeling fabulous, fit and enjoying my new found love of clothes again. Then it happened. As soon as I started basking in the glory, I started getting lazy. Before I knew it, I’d put on a few kilos. I was grumpy yet still in denial. “I’ll lose it next week, ” I told myself for two months.
Then I set another empty goal – to lose five kilos by the Digital Parents Blogging Conference in Melbourne. I wanted to get back that wonderful glow that comes with healthy eating and exercise. That glow you get when you slip on your jeans and you think you look good in them. I lost two kilos and then quick smart put back on another five. I am now edging closer to a weight I vowed I’d never get to again. I feel so angry at myself. I feel ashamed at my lack of resolve.
When I walk into the conference next week, I will once again be tugging at my shirt to cover my belly. I’ll go to the dinner dance and feel flabby and uncomfortable in my oversized dress and I will be engaged in an internal dialogue of self attack.
Next week I will be standing in a room of accomplished, wonderful women who I regard as my friends, some I’ve met numerous times, some I’ve never met face-to-face. We’ve seen each other’s avatars; photos taken from the best angle, then altered with filters. I don’t think I look like my photos on Facebook or Twitter – I only put up photos which I think hide my self-loathed bits. I stretch my neck out or tip my face to the side to look skinnier or younger.
I need you to know people out there who I’ll meet for the first time, that I am rounder and older than may photos may suggest. And while I was feeling fabulous about attending the event a few months back, when I was looking the best I had in years, now I am not as confident about it all. I will smile and laugh and probably drink too many wines. You might think I’m funny and confident, but in reality I will be embarrassed about my body and will be hiding my insecurities.
You also need to know that my body image issues are a long running problem of mine, but don’t define me as a person. It doesn’t change me professionally or alter my mothering style. Body image insecurities aside I am a strong, independent woman who will look you in the eye and smile when we meet. Who knows that everyone in that room will have at least one thing they worry about and therefore I know I am not alone – that we are in the same boat.
I suppose what I am trying to say is, remember when you are feeling nervous or shy or worried what others think of you, try not to. Even the most self assured people there are nervous in same way. Be brave and know we are all there to share our experiences and learn from each other. We are bloggers for god’s sake – that’s what we do. We put our fears and worries and pasts and loves and fears and dreams and insecurities out there for all to read. If there is one room where we should all feel safe and accepted and feee of judgement it should be next week in Melbourne.
Please come and say hi, I’d love to meet you if I haven’t already. And when the music starts at the end of the night, kick off your shoes, push aside your barriers and dance. Dance with reckless abandon.
Are you attending the DPCON next week?