A Stupid Moment

So today I had another stupid moment...okay, I know what you're thinking and you can stop laughing anytime now.

Really.

I mean it.

Stop. Laughing.

It was one of those mornings, I was getting ready and thinking about a million other things than what I was actually doing when all of a sudden I caught myself in the mirror and saw it. I had to do a double take. It was me. I'm fat again.

Not that long ago I was reveling in being thin. Really thin. Like the actual weight those doctors claim is the weight for my short under 5 foot self. Like high school thin back when I didn't know I was thin. Thin like I could wander into a store, find clothes that were cute and then have them fit. Thin like I felt fabulous.

But now. I'm not.

So as the day has been rushing bye, because it has. It's been a very busy day of thinking one thing is happening then finding out another is happening. Plus spring is near, Easter is around the corner and spring fever is wracking the kids. We also have 2 littles with some sort of yucky nose thing going on. Boo. Hiss. Blech.

But, so what I was thinking about was this. For me, it's easy to be fat and very, very hard to be thin. Eating is easy. It's easy to find the reasons to indulge. Bad reasons and good reasons. Food is an integral part of our culture, of socializing, of my family, of me and of how I love on people.

Some of my gifts are in the areas of hospitality and cooking is something that brings me great pleasure, so for me, when I cook for you, I'm pouring out my heart into whatever I've made. And if I'm serving it to you in my home, where despite my kids, I've tried to make it as welcoming and like a home you'd want to be in, it's that much more a gift of myself. I strive to have a home that is one that everyone instantly feels comfortable and at ease in. Not picture perfect by any stretch of the imagination. It's pretty well worn around the edges. There are fingerprints and toys and dog hairs.

So back to being fat. Well. Frankly. It's really hard for me to get thin and stay thin. It takes so much effort to convince myself that I'd rather have some healthy food or drink than an easy, junky, taste good, feel good treat. Now, don't misunderstand, I know all about cooking healthy and finding great tasting healthy alternatives to the junk. I do. And we did it for a long time.

I've done it for a long time. I've been vegetarian. I've done South Beach. I've done diabetic diets. I did Fiengold. I did gluten free. I did dairy free. I've done Specific Carb. They were all good in their turn and I felt good on all of them. Healthy, light, strong, confident, energized.

But can I tell you something? Sometimes fat just feels comfortable.

This line of thinking brought me back to some other conversations I had recently. I was talking with someone about how hard it was to be a girl vs. be a boy. Then I had another conversation about how that peer pressure you have in high school really doesn't end. It just changes categories.

So it goes something like this. As a chick, no matter how many babies come out of your body or how many you raise, you can't get flabby. You need to stay thin and in shape. Never mind that you're well into your 30's or 40's, you should still be picking out your clothes in the Junior department. You always should want to wear a bikini. There is no such thing as gray hair unless you're moving into a retirement home. Wrinkles don't exist. You're still wearing make up, stupid shoes that are very fashionable and getting those nails done weekly. And don't forget about the pedi. Now, while you're busy being all this, you're raising the perfect kids in a beautiful home. You're driving a car that is never dirty, inside or out. You don't run out of things like milk or diapers and make midnight runs to all night grocery stores. You have all the latest techno gadgets and you know how to use them. You have a well paying job that you love. You travel and take awesome family vacations. You have pets, but they don't barf on the rug or shed or look like road kill.

You don't wear mom jeans, sweat shirts or tee shirts. You have a chic hair style and not a pony tail. You run marathons, swim, golf and play tennis. Your dishes all match and aren't chipped. Your maid or your kids keep the place spotless while you are getting those gourmet ingredients for all those fabulous healthy meals you prepare effortlessly in your kitchen. And your kids eat them. You're not burning Pop Tarts in the toaster while shamelessly shouting at the kids to brush their teeth and put on clean socks before shoving them out the door, telling them to hurry to school so they're not late and telling them to eat that black Pop Tart on the way there. You don't do breakfast for dinner unless it's quiche.

You're in a book club, a civic club, you volunteer and you are a leader in your church. You write and have speaking gigs. You have cool hobbies like scrap booking, stamping or jewelry making. And you're so good at those, that all your friends rave about you and want you to teach them and their friends. You never buy make up in the grocery store or jewelry in a discount store.

I could go on, really, I could. This is easy for me to see. But I won't. You get the idea. It's hard to be a chick. All the different stages are hard. The peer pressure never lifts. It just changes. Depending on your job it might still be the suits and heels culture. You have to measure up. It might be the mommy circle. You have to have the right toys, strollers and use the right parenting method. It might be in your hood. You have to have your home decorated just so inside and landscaped just so outside. Maybe it's your Christian circle. You better be a fan of this author and this artist and be doing this hip new study.

Well, over here, I guess I'm a rebel in a way. Perhaps it's just lazy. That would be the likely judgement. I'm not thin. My hair is gray and the color job got forgotten. I buy cheap makeup where I buy my milk and eggs. I'm fast on my way to a pony tail. I have mom jeans. And I'm wearing them. My car is a bus and it looks like we've had a long, hard winter. Inside and out. My yard is a mud hole. My clothes are often older than my kids. My dog eats road kill. And smells like a dog. My kids don't always like what I make for dinner and it ain't gourmet anything. My stroller has never measured up. I've never been a fan of the right parenting method and I'm always doing the wrong Bible study.

All this said, it doesn't mean I won't be jumping back on that peer pressure band wagon and trying to drop the pounds. It doesn't mean I didn't love being that tiny little person who could buy whatever she wanted to wear. But it does mean, that I've got a far better grasp on things now than ever before in my life. I think this next decade is going to be one not only of rebellion (yeah, still thinking about a color streak in my gray...maybe blue) but a year where lots of the pieces of my life come together and make radical sense for a change. I'm going to choose where my energy goes and you can bet that most of the time, it isn't going to go where that peer pressure directs it.