Friday, May 5, 2017

Doing The Thing While The Cinnamon Rolls Are Baking

Death is a part of life. Every living thing dies. Eventually the thread of your life will be cut. This is on my mind because my father is in southern Illinois waiting for his own mother to pass.

Something else has been on my mind lately. And I would greatly appreciate your feedback.

I am ALL for the body positivity movement. All bodies are good bodies. Love yourself as you are, not how society says you should look/be. Even supermodels and the Kardashians don't look how they look on social media or print.

I get that.


My mother. Who taught me valuable lessons and who fundamentally shaped who I am today (duh). She was morbidly obese for most of my lifetime. I didn't play and run outside with my parents. (my father had polio as a child)

I watched her lose weight and gain it back. I watched her go through the harrowing process of weight loss surgery (Lap Band).

I watched her health decline. I watched her as she eventually lost the ability to walk. I've read her journals and I know how she struggled. I saw for my ENTIRE LIFE how she struggled to do simple things. Sit at a restaurant (table only, no booths). Get out of bed. Get dressed. Get into and out of a car. Walk up the two steps into my house the ONE time she was able to come here before she became bedridden.

I am groin-grabbingly terrified this will happen to me. I am currently the heaviest I have ever been . I'm on Weight Watchers. I walk whenever I can. I am trying to accept my body as it is NOW because I CAN get out of bed/into and out of the car/upstairs. I am trying to be grateful and loving towards myself.  But there is a part of me that sees my mother. In the stretch marks and cellulite.  And it scares me because I don't want to end the way she did. It is my nightmare. It is what brings tears to my eyes when I spend more than a nanosecond in contemplation.

(my grandmother just passed away as I wrote this)


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