There was a time in my life, pretty much during the entirety of my twenties when I took a great deal of pride in how I looked. I do not believe it was out of vanity, I believe it was that then I enjoyed it. My nails were always polished. My entire body was smooth, soft and smelled yummy. I'd spend hours getting ready to go out and surely a far cry more than my 15 minutes in the morning now to get ready for work. I wore cute clothes and shopped thrift stores relentless to find things that fit my style and were affordable for a working, single mom. I worked out 5 - 6 days a week and ate pretty much perfectly at least that many days a week. I was down to a size 9/10 jeans and wore a size 8 dress. I was still chunky, but a healthy chunky for me. My tummy was pretty flat, my legs were long and firm and I remember looking forward to summer so I could wear shorts and skirts rather than fearing it like the plague. I loved shoes, chunky shoes and heels and my favorites were boots. Boots of all kinds. Long sleek black leather knee highs. Hiking boots. Ankle high boots. I look back at the girl I was then I think of how much I miss her. Unfortunately, I of course did not appreciate her back then. I was always striving to loose another 5 lbs or get the perfect arch in my eyebrow. I was never satisfied then with her and now I'd cry a million tears to be her again. Sort of.
The bottom line has become that I am a changed women. My mind, spirit and body have suffered tremendous travesties in these past years. On some levels, my self esteem is so far gone down the toilet that I've lost any and all interest in taking the time to or make the effort to even feel pretty again, let alone look it. Much of it is my weight. Some of it is that I simply don't want the attention. Let me just say that during those years as a long legged pixie cherub, the majority of attention I received was unwanted and unsolicited. I never realized it then, but I was a pretty sexual being. Most of it truly was unintentional, but my body is naturally buxom and when you are built like that and have long blonde hair to boot....you get attention. I didn't like it a lot of the time and then when I did start to like it, I sought it from sources that were not healthy for me. Men who would spill lies from their mouths and were just self destructive enough at the for me to fall for them. Women who would insult me and talk about me behind my back and I would let them, because I didn't really think I was worth much more either.
But the attention piece isn't all of it, I am just plain fat and out of shape and I'm so tired of it. Maybe I wouldn't want to be the 24 year old vixen again and have all of her insecurities and experiences to go through again. But I wouldn't mind being closer to a size 10 again, hell a good solid size 12 would make me happy at this point. I wouldn't mind feeling pretty and sexy again and young! I'm aging myself every day it feels like just being in this body. This isn't my body, this isn't my ass and this belly is definitely not my belly. It's some strangers who took me over for a while and let herself throw caution to the wind in every way and it didn't work out so now it's time to find that girl again with some will power, a sense of self, and how she loved to work out and eat salad every day. I know that now I'd know how to manage any weird attention I might get because I have grown significantly from those days when I let people treat me like shit because I didn't know I deserved any better. Sure, now I might dress a little different (I still love boots though, I just love them...actually my shoe style will always remain funky on some level, I love blue toe nail polish and chunky sandals, what can I say?) or wear my hair differently. I may adopt a more sophisticated 30 something look rather than a 20 something club hopping party girl. And most definitely I wouldn't want to be 20 something again, go through all that heartache and pain again? HELLO NO! I've already been there and done that. But that's not really what this is about, I don't need to prattle on about the 1001 ways I've matured and gained knowledge from 4 or 6 or 8 or 10 years because that is readily apparent I'd say. More so, I just miss a part of someone that I once was, not all of her, just a part. I miss caring about how I look, I miss feeling desirable and interesting and pretty and fun. I miss thinking of myself as "fairly fit." I miss blue toe nail polish and working out for hours and feeling the lean ness of my body during upward and down ward dog during a good yoga session. I've never been able to jog (bad for the kidneys) but I once could hike for 3 or more hours at a time. In Colorado, this is no small feat. I would kick box 3 times a week, walk at least 1 - 2 miles per day and do yoga the other 2 - 3 days a week. I did sit ups and girly push ups and lots and lots of leg/butt/hip toning. My ankles didn't ache. My knees weren't sore from being so heavy. My belly didn't protrude like some alien growing from within it. I once wore cute skirts and teeny little tank tops in the summer and jeans and sweaters in the winter. I spent 2 years devoutly learning and reading the teachings of Taoism and Buddhism. I meditated, I strived for my spirituality. I couldn't wait to get another tattoo on my body somewhere because I enjoyed the process and my body in it. Sure, during this time I agonized and ached and spent many moons in total angst over love and memories from my childhood and trying to understand the world and how I fit into it. I cried and thought I might die some days from the confusion and pain of what I saw around me. I saw horrible things happen to good people, I lost jobs and money and made it all back and lost it again. I was sick and well and sick again. I still go through all of these things regularly, but with age and time and experience these things all appear differently to me. I experience them differently. Yes, I still ache and when I think of how I literally thought I might not make it through another day last summer...sigh. I've felt pain I didn't even know could exist and am certainly wiser in some senses obviously. But I am a colder woman, I feel it. A little darker, more cynical, less innocent. Surely I wasn't an innocent then, perhaps that's the wrong word. Maybe idealistic is a better choice. Naive? Ignorance is bliss no? I loved freely, gave of myself openly and certainly never thought of the people around me as cruel or heartless or manipulative. As I've said repeatedly before, some died in me. Something important, something I miss. And as I type this I realize that my external body, my external self won't reflect any kind of inner peace or harmony or balance until it is actually achieved. Which is a life long journey for all of us, I believe. I certainly wasn't these things when I was a size 10, but I surely faked it well didn't I? I don't want to fake it any more. I want to feel true freedom and joy in my spirit. I do more and more every day. I feel more alive and brighter, I find solace and peace is small things each day. Birds in the park when I walk, an afternoon with a good friend. My home feels more like my home every day and my family feels closer with each bump and trip and fall. Certainly I've begun the process of eviction of that which is not healthy for me or my family.
The real question I have I think is more....how do I find myself again? I do I become this new version of myself? A Sarah TODAY that is interesting and grounded and pretty and loving and open and giving? A Sarah today that is living life happily and not abusing her body or her psyche? I don't even know where to start some days...though I'm certain it has something to do with sparkly blue toe nail polish.
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