By AndreAnna

The movers come in two weeks. I’m spending the next two weeks alternating between freaking out and well, freaking out.

I also  had 11 training sessions left in my pre-paid packet, and was not about to lose them. So I did what any other completely batshit crazy person would do and doubled my sessions for the next two weeks.

Then we move. Then I get settled. Then I kick some ass.

I may be facing hand surgery (not related to boxing) so as much as it breaks my heart. I may have to put boxing on the back burner, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. In the meantime, I plan to use the complex’s beautiful gym and get out and explore my new area.

I know I’ve gained weight. I’ve been loathe to step on the scale because I think seeing one more thing to bring me down is not what I need right now. But I can feel it in ALL of my pants, see it in  my face, and in the self-conscious way I’ve been tugging at my shirts near my belly. I HATE that I’ve let myself slip – not because of the weight – but because of how it makes me feel.

I don’t feel like me when I eat rushed or poorly – shoving a peanut butter sandwich in  my whinehole at 10 pm and chasing it with a glass of Malbec. Yes, I know. Classy. I don’t feel sexy or or confident when I can barely button my pants. I KNOW it’s reasonable. I AM uprooting my entire existence with two pets and two small children, a full-time job, and a housing crisis.

So it’s expected I don’t cook wholesome meals. I mean, half of my stuff is packed away. I couldn’t find my salad spinner if you asked me. It’s okay. I’m okay. I know it’s only temporary.

But more than the scale or my pants, I need to re-focus for me. I need to set a goal.

There’s this teeny tiny conference you’ve probably heard of called BlogHer the first weekend in August. I’ll be going. I’ve already met many of the people in my blog world in “real life” (a term which I HATE because it infers that this blogosphere isn’t real which is STUPID), but there are a lot more people I’ll be meeting.

I’ll be networking, sharing my stories, representing both my personal blog and this blog of which I am very proud to be a part of.

And if this conference were say, this week, I’d be miserable. I’d feel self-conscious and less confident. Not because of what the scale says or what I had for lunch (a tuna sandwich and a salad with an amount of blue cheese that should be illegal). Not because my face is a little rounder or my pants a little tighter. But because I don’t feel good in my own skin. I don’t feel like the best me.

How can I meet people with confidence and shake their hand knowing I’m not the best me I know I can be?

Last year before this conference, there was a movement called “Hot by BlogHER” and this made me INSANE. Because we’re a community of people who come together for some common reason – whether it’s because we’re mothers, editors, writers, cooks, fitness gurus – whatever. It’s to support each other and meet up with the other people in this community we mold every day.

To think people needed to be “hot” for it makes me angry. Angry that women have been forced to feel this way – that we need to be hot or pretty to be accepted and liked. That what we look like on the outside will mimic how people will feel about us.

And it’s a giant steaming load of horse shit.

You ARE beautiful. Every inch of you. You have to OWN your body. Its stretchmarks, the moles, the acne scars, the C-section scar, your saggy hips or lopsided boobs. You are perfect.

You don’t have to be hot for me.

But hell, if you want to be hot for you, than you rock out with your um…well, you know the idiom.

So, for me, I don’t want to be “hot” by BlogHer. I don’t want YOU to feel like you have to be “hot by BlogHer” either. I want you to be the best you that you can be. And in my case, it means feeling good about myself, my body, and my choices.

Once I get settled in my new town and get on a schedule, I figure I’ve got about ten weeks till the conference. This time, I want to start a campaign. I’m going to set weekly goals – whether it be to run in the rain, try a new exercise, swim extra laps, stay away from processed food, not drink beer all week (Mmmmmm beer; I’m like a female Homer Simpson) – something. And each week, those of you who want to join with me (regardless if you’re going to BlogHer) can converse and share your weekly goals in the comments.

So starting in May, make way for the Beautiful by BlogHER movement. Because this is what it’s all about. Not what the number on your scale says, because last time I checked they don’t etch that on your headstone. THIS life. THIS is what matters. Not your pants, not the measurements.

Feeling like you ARE beautiful, that you CAN do anything, that you ARE awesome. One week at a time.

We can do this.

We can love ourselves.

We can feel incredible.

Who’s with me?

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 14th, 2010 at 2:22 pm and is filed under Blogs, Fat Genes to Skinny Jeans. 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.