By Jennifer

I realized something just now, as I was mulling over being treated unfairly by a friend of mine. I kept going over how she (rudely) responded to me, and I thought, But I would be more understanding. I would be there for her. Hell, I have been there for her. And then, like lightning, it hit me. This sad, true realization: I don’t treat myself any better, so how I can expect more from her.

Now, I’d like to believe — and I’d like you to believe — that this isn’t necessarily true. I allow myself date nights and guilty pleasures on the CW and time with a good book and girl’s vacations and more naps than the average mom, I’d be willing to bet, but I don’t really and truly take care of myself.

Oh, it’s the oldest parenting cliche in the book: I put everyone’s needs before my own and by midnight, I can allow myself an episode of Gilmore Girls (don’t judge) and a few blogs, but I can’t allow myself true and dedicated care, the kind that comes from letting your outside (your body) match your inside (your desire to be healthy and happy and fit).

Sometimes I think I was just meant to be fat.

I’ve been writing here a very long time, and I’ve had nine billion revelations. I’ve identified countless feelings and life patterns, and I’ve even lost some weight. I’ve bought running shoes and have even strapped them on a couple times. I’ve obsessively counted calories and have obsessively lost count of calories. In truth, I’ve felt very much like a hamster on a never-ending wheel of torture. Except I’m not running on my wheel. I’m sometimes walking, sometimes eating cake.

Just today I’ve realized that all the hurt feelings and yo-yo emotions of the last few years are directly my fault, my issue, because no matter how often I’ve said, “So-and-so cannot treat me that way; I deserve better; I want more; I have a life to live” I’ve allowed the mirror and pictures to reflect a person who obviously doesn’t mean any of those things, who obviously doesn’t think she’s worth what she says she thinks she’s worth.

No one is more sick of the grand declarations than me, I can assure you that.

I love my friends, my husband, my son, my parents, my dog, even. I want to take care of them (I do take care of them!), but imagine what I could do if I readjusted the list ever-so-slightly. Imagine what my life would look like if I cared as much about how I treat myself as I do about how others treat me. Yeah, things would look mighty different, I think.

I wasn’t meant to be fat, and I won’t let myself be any longer.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 21st, 2009 at 11:53 am and is filed under Blogs, Deserting Dessert. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.