Liberation and Body Shame

So.  I thought I was done blogging.  Turns out, I have more to say.  Surprise!

For years, I've felt like a prisioner in my own body.  I had a suit of armor, so to speak, of my own making.

Through hard work, my prison has slowly been stripped away, layer by layer (I've still got a considerable amount of "armor" on my person.  But comparatively, it's quite a change and I feel super vulnerable about it at times).  But.  BUT.  And this is a big but (no pun intended, hey-oh!), I still feel a deep and profound shame about my body.

Quick special shout-out to my husband here, for helping me work through this.  I know it's something I've got to work on and do for myself, but it helps to have somebody who appreciates your body, notices small changes, and basically worships you like a goddess.  Thanks, boo.

My besties, who have all seen me in various stages of undress, know that I'm particularly self-conscious about my belly.  I may call it a food baby, baby Buddha, keg, etc to joke around, but the truth is, I hate it.  A lot.

The good news is, I have other body parts that I dig.  My ass is fantastic.  My face is pretty cute.  I've got decent legs.  I like my shoulders.  I just can't seem to get past my body shame, and most of it centers around my midsection.  It's pale and has stretch marks.  I have never, ever, EVER voluntarily showed it off in public.  EVER.

Today, Jeffer, Taco, and I went out to Brillion to explore.  We hiked at the nature center for a bit, but the mosquitoes got so bad we had to abandon ship pretty quickly.  Jeff had a few things to take care of, so Taco and I went for a jog on the Friendship Trail.  It was hotter than hell.  I was sweating my ass off and my t-shirt was uncomfortably stuck to me in a billion places.  As I was jogging, I thought, "man, I wish I could take my shirt off."

Then, I thought, "why the hell can't I take my damn shirt off?"

I immediately dismissed the idea.  I will barely wear a bathing suit, let alone run around without a shirt on.  Tank tops feel revealing to me.  I've worn shorts twice this summer, and felt uncomfortable the whole time.  My brain kept telling me, "nobody wants to see that shit, Ang.  Keep it on!"

Then, I stopped myself.  Thoughts started spiraling through my brain...

What the fuck, Ang.  What the fuck.  You are alone.  

Your dog doesn't give a flying fuck what your belly looks like.  

And furthermore...do you really care what any potential strangers you MIGHT run into think of your body?  

Are the thoughts of hypothetical strangers more important than your own personal comfort right now?

Embarrassingly enough, yes.  Absolutely, 100%, yes.  I did care what potential, non-existant, hypothetical strangers/other hikers would think of my body.  Realizing this made me feel even more ashamed of myself.  How can I project this persona of confidence and still have these self-loathing thoughts?  Why do I feel like I'm not good enough?  Why do I still hate my body so much?

I started thinking about all the amazing things my body is capable of.  My legs have walked in over 40 states, 12 countries, up hills and mountains, and across graduation stages.  My hands have caught babies as they've entered the world and held the hands of dying patients as they've exited the world.  My arms have held my friends' babies and hugged the ones I love.  My mouth, while sassy and with a penchant for getting me into trouble, kisses the ones I love and shares my thoughts with the world.  My body has done some pretty amazing stuff.  What right do I have to hate such an amazing thing???

Fuck it, I thought, stripped my shirt off, and finished my jog (wog, actually.  Taco got tired before I did, surprisingly).

Had I seen another human, I probably would have put my shirt back on immediately.  I did put it back on before I got back to the highway portion of the trail.  I felt weird the whole time.  The point is, today was a tiny step towards self-love and liberation for me, and it took a lot for me to be able to do it.  Even more to share this hella unflattering but empowering picture that I'm about to link.  Yeesh.

Werkin dem angles.

Vacation! Subtitle: I am AWESOME.

I just got back from a frickin amazeballs family vacation.  Myself, the hubs, and my mom and pops flew out to Phoenix last week and then met my sibs in Flagstaff.

We stayed in a sweet rental house (thanks, Ma and Pa) and hiked all over God's green earth.


We saw First People's homes built into the sides of cliffs.



We hiked the Grand Canyon.

We hiked for MILES around Sedona.

We went to a weird little town called Jerome, built into the side of a mountain.

We explored Phoenix and Flagstaff.

We sat in a hot tub for hours.

We got up and drove two hours to see an amazing sunrise.

We saw tons of elk so close to us we could have touched them (if it weren't for fleas and early mating-season aggression, that is).

I got to see my college roomie and fetus friend and her husband, and meet their sweet daughter Aida.

I ate fajitas pretty much every day.

I had amazing tequila (sorry not sorry, Amanda and Donovan).




But let's talk about the best parts.

It started with me sitting in an airplane seat comfortably.  My ass fit and everything.  It was a spring break miracle.
And then.  AND THEN!  I buckled my airplane seatbelt.  Without.  A.  Seatbelt.  Extender.  For the first time since before I met my husband.
Then, I put the tray table down and it didn't smack my boobs or my food baby on the way down.
And then I hiked for miles and miles up and down and around a mountain in Sedona and kept up with my family.
And then I hiked straight down into a gorge and back out.
And then I hiked around the Grand Canyon rim.

And then I hiked into the Grand Canyon (not all the way to the bottom, I don't have a death wish) to see a fossil wall and back out.
And then I comfortably sat in yet another airplane seat, buckled yet another airplane seatbelt without an extender, and used another tray table without my boobs or food baby getting in the way.

While tramping all over AZ, I thought a lot about the last vacation I took, when my husband, my bestie and I drove to Montana to meet my siblings.  It was gorgeous and amazing, and I missed out on parts of it because I had no stamina, no energy, and was unbelievably out of shape.  Instead of dwelling on that and feeling sad, I was (am) overjoyed that's no longer the case.  I can do the things I want to (most of them, anyway) and don't have to miss out on anything I want to do because of my fitness, or lack thereof.

Amazing how much can change in just under a year, huh?

NSVs

Don't get me wrong.  Losing weight is awesome.  I feel amazing.  I look pretty good.  I feel more confident and healthy than I have in a loooooong time.

But (and this is a big but, no pun intended), I am getting more and more geeked about the non-scale victories I'm accomplishing throughout this process.

Let's discuss them, shall we?

Within the last month, I've been able to do a lot of things that I've either never done before or haven't been able to do in a long time.

1) I fit into tall boots.  Yes, the tall boots I fit into are designed for chunky calves, but this is huge for me, as I couldn't even zip those a few months ago.
2) I climbed a state park tower without having to stop and rest on the way up.
3) I voluntarily went on hikes (or, as Rae would say, "walks," since there are no mountains involved).  I love hiking but haven't had the energy or stamina to do even a short hike in a long time.
4) I scheduled a fishing trip with my pops for this coming summer.  I love fishing with my dad, but I haven't done it in almost 10 years because 1) nursing school took up all my time, 2) I got too heavy for my waders to fit me, and 3) there is no way in hell I could have enjoyed it having the low energy I've had until recently.  Our type of fishing is peaceful and relaxing and fun...but it's also exhausting, ass-busting work.  We don't fish like your typical fisherman.  There is very little "sitting in a boat, tooling around a lake, drinking beer" and lots of "let's walk cross-country through a knee-deep beaver run for an hour to the tiniest, meandering stream imaginable.  Also, try not to get in the way of any cow moose or wolves.  Also, don't fall in the floating bog.  Also, don't catch your pole/line/waders/vest/face on any tag alder.  Also, don't forget to spray your entire body with toxic tick spray so you don't get Lyme's disease.  Also, don't get lost because you will die of exposure.  Also, you are carrying a canoe, two paddles, life vests, and all your fishing gear."  It can be strenuous, but it's worth it to fish in places that less than a dozen other people on earth are able to find, navigate, and enjoy.
5) My wedding rings are too big.  This is both a victory and a pain in my ass.
6) My boobs haven't shrunk nearly as much as I thought.  My bras were all huge and I was really sad...until I went to buy new bras.  Turns out, my band size was 4 inches too big which is why I was swimming in them.  Thanks for sticking around, boobs!

The moral of the story:  The numbers on the scale are great.  I love seeing them consistently going down.  However; there is so much more to it than that.  If you're trying to lose weight and the numbers aren't agreeing with you, think about everything else you've gained through the process.  I bet you've had some awesome victories, too.