You’re Not Preferred..

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So here I sit. It is past 2am, I am in desperate need for a shower, and my mind is racing a million miles per hour.

My leg is almost healed, and though I am supposed to be going to physical therapy twice a week, I have yet to do so. I want to get my car back down to me (it is getting registered by my lovely mom right now since I work the hours to get it done) and then make the appointments. My ankle is still achy, and feels tight. My toes are half numb all the time, but apparently that is normal with this kind of break. Could take years to get the feeling back, if ever. I am still wearing my boot to work, but wear an athletic brace at home. I am still very inactive, and because of this I have gotten even FATTER! I am not really concerned about how I look right now, as I am more worried about getting my health back on track. I eat decently healthy most of the time, but am VERY inactive due to the illnesses/flares I have endured lately as well as the broken leg. I haven’t been this fat in over 10 years. SO strange to have my clothes not fit me again. To be the fat one waddling around the office. I am not really self conscious, because once again, I am more worried about other things. The time will come when I can be more active, and my useless piled on weight will start to fall off again. Now is not that time.. but I have been thinking a bit..

When I was thinner, just about 18 months ago, I actually looked pretty good. I was larger than I wanted by about 20 lbs, but I looked great for having 4 kids. I was then, as I am now, pretty confident in myself. There was only one problem: Him. Jeff. I remember feeling so good about myself, and often times very sexy. I would walk the halls at work, and know I was attractive. I would go home, let my hair down, wash my face and STILL feel so beautiful and attractive. Then the conversation would come up, and I would be reminded that he wanted me thinner. man-checking-out-other-woman He was interested in thinner women. I was LARGER than he preferred, “but he loved me anyway”. I have never understood the ‘love you anyway’ concept in a relationship. If you love someone, you love them how they are. You do not prefer a better version of them. Especially a version you have never seen, or maybe they have never been!! Knowing your sexual and emotional partner prefers someone who is smaller than you are, especially when going through health issues (I was two years into my dilemma) is incredibly hurtful. I remember standing in front of the mirror, tears streaming down my face, as I poked at the soft spots I knew he was referring to. I had given birth to, and fed 4 babies with my body. I was going through the worst pain and misery I had in my entire life with my health, and I wasn’t good enough in his eyes.

“I prefer…” – This can be such a crushing moment for anyone. Male or female. A woman tells a man she prefers men who are hairless; to her wolf like mate. “I prefer hairless men… but I love you anyway.” – This stands that there is STILL a preference, a BETTER version, if you will, of the person standing before them. “I prefer women with larger breasts… but I love you anyway.” – Here stands a crushed woman, knowing that he would much prefer her body be so different, instead of cherishing and loving every inch. We all have “preferences” of the kind of mate we go after, but if you are pursuing a person who does not fit your most wanted qualities, what are you doing? Now, that is not always the case. Sometimes someone is not your type, and yet you fall madly for them for the wonderful person they are. What then? Do you inform them of your preferences and let them know you “love them” despite them being somewhat unattractive to you? I know it is such a fine line to cross, but it is one that in a relationship you do not want to barge through. It has been over 15 months since we split, and here I am, still wounded knowing a man I was with did not accept my body as it was. Nor did the man before him post baby. I can’t help but to wonder what kind of men I get myself involved with that would be so unaccepting and unloving of such a beautiful thing as a mother’s body.

So here I sit, 2:30am on a Monday morning. I need to be up for work in 6 hours, and I still haven’t showered. Thinking on what my body means to me and to others. I look at my swollen belly, my oversized arms, and my “thunder thighs” and can’t help but to think what a mess they would think me to be. How judged I would be by those who I have shared my bed with. How they would likely scowl and make jokes of my current health problems.

art-SHE-fat-20130606193605324870-620x349 “She’s gotten so fat!”

“Wow! I really dodged a bullet there!”

“Ew! Look at that! Good thing I am not with her anymore! DAMN!”

“No wonder she is still single! GROSS!”

Once again, looking over my body, I can’t help to see what I am. A tough girl. A very, very tough woman. I am what I am right now, and I accept what I am. I prefer to look over myself and think:

“I live through this pain every day. My body carries a heavy weight right now, both physically and emotionally. My body is strong in all it’s weakness. I am amazing. I am beautiful. Each and every inch of me is perfect just as I am right now. One day at a time.”

I don’t look in the mirror and see my fat. The rolls on me even seem foreign and strange to me some days. What I see is beautiful me. I see a strong woman who is fighting with all that she has for herself, and her family. For her health and her love. Getting my life as collected as possible, all while fighting a painful and hard battle. I do not see someone who needs to change. I see what I am today made by my decisions thus far. I do not see someone who is unattractive and unwanted. I see a beautiful, strong woman who can take anything that is thrown her way! Anything that tries to knock her down is thwarted, and she rises. The pounds on the scale do not bother me like they did when I was with him. I weighed myself multiple times a week when we were together. I measured, sucked in, cried… sobbed even… and felt awful about myself almost daily. I was “not enough” – “not preferred” but tolerated. Waiting for me to change into the women he thought I should be, while I accepted him (Not gracefully, I must admit. I suck at relationships) just as he was. There was no “preferred” him I wanted. There was just… him. As much as he thought otherwise, I assume from his want for me to be different, I loved him as he was. Every inch, pound, hair, and big nose on him. Perhaps that is why his words of hurt have lingered for so long… but perhaps it is part of why I am what I am today. Why I can look in the mirror now and say, “Fuck that dude. You are awesome!” – And poke myself in my jiggly belly, because I know that tomorrow is another day, and everything about me today is perfect. Every flaw. Every stretch mark. Every little imperfection anyone else would see. I am me, and I am awesome.

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