My son has been fake teething for a couple of weeks now. I say it's fake, because he's actually poked a couple of teeth through a few times, and then these teeth have chickened out and retreated back into his gums. I didn't know this was a thing. Apparently it's a thing. Anyway, the point of this is that he's in a distinctly sleep-free phase of life, as is my daughter who has scary dreams about masks some nights, and spontaneously wets the bed on others (SERIOUSLY kid? You're 3. Stop that now.)
So papa bear and I are a couple of under-slept folks, and now it's taking a toll on my body. Back pain, stomach pain, and week long headache, every last bit of which I'm attributing to the fact that I'm so sleepy it hurts. Which is why we're going out on a date tonight. Staying home may SOUND more restful, but going out means that we get a few kiddo-free hours, and nothing, nothing compares to that. So date tonight. Yes.
I've been thinking about my "story" lately, (I have a Master's in Psychology. Just in case you didn't ALREADY think I was crazy annoying, now you've got proof. Story is a narrative therapy thing. That's all. Oh, I was also a cheerleader in high school. So, you know. Annoying.)
Anyway. I've always thought of myself as a fat person who has occasionally not been AS fat. I'm pretty sure a lot of that has to do with this picture:
Honestly, this wasn't even the worst of it. I, of course, am the lil' chubster on the right, and the twiggy pre-teen behind me is my super hot, one-year-older cousin Tawyna. No, I'm not blaming her high level of attractiveness juxtaposed with my rampant chubby awkwardness for my fat complex. I'm saying it's because I was a legitimately fat kid. There are other pictures. Worse pictures. I don't have any of those pictures (because they make me feel sad feelings), but I do know that at the heaviest, I was 5'0" and around 170 pounds. In other words, I was one chubby little chica.
But here's the funny thing. This picture ALSO exists:
Fun Side Note: I'm pretty sure that mere seconds before this picture was taken, I was running and whooping in front of a bleacher-full of watchers and judgers, when I cartwheeled and somehow landed right on my head. Then I got up and cheered some more, because when you're a cheerleader, you just pretend it never happened.
So from high school until my wedding day, I fluctuated from around 130 to 160, dependent upon a variety of lifey-type factors. Then I got married and got overweight for a few years. Which wasn't a shock to me, because I am a fat person. And then I had a kid and I was even heavier, which was still not a shock because I am a fat person.
But here's the thing. Maybe I don't want to be a fat person anymore. And here's the other thing. Maybe I never really was a fat person.
If you do the math, the years I've spent in the healthy weight range outweigh (hey-o!) the years I was heavy. In fact, I've only been really good and over weight for probably 6 or 7 of my 29 years. And although I've never had a truly flat stomach or been able to achieve a supermodel stature, I've got to think that truly fat people don't have pictures of themselves like this:
|Japan, age 20, weighing 130, my smallest adult weight.|
And oh yeah, for a bonus: You know those pants I used to fantasize about? Those size 8 jeans I just COULD NOT WAIT to get into again? Well this is what those pants looked like today.
Sexy. I know.