Bikini of Liberation

     I cannot remember a time when I did not think that my body was wrong. In 4th grade, I was the "fat" kid and began my life of bullies, eating disorders, and self hate. I pushed hard on the door that held my skeletons throughout high school and college: diet pills, binge eating, and bulimia. No one knew the mental beating I gave myself everyday for being "fat". Eventually I found myself at 300 pounds in my mid-twenties. I fought to save myself from feeling trapped in my body. I was living a life that was leading me to an early grave. I successfully lost 125 pounds with Weight Watchers and exercise. I have kept the weight off for seven years and in that time I have been anxiously waiting to finally love my body.  

     I have been waiting for the moment when I would no longer be embarrassed by my wiggles, jiggles, stretch marks, and wings. I have been waiting for seven years. When does that magical moment happen when I will no longer hate the skin I am in? It started to happen two years ago when I began my blog and opened up about my post weight loss frustrations. I could not have predicted the impact on my mental health this would have for me. It was life changing. 

     For the first time in my life I was learning about body positivity. I found other like minded people with the same desire to feel beautiful in their skin. Tess Holliday forever changed how I felt about my body. Her unwavering confidence inspired me to find my own empowerment in my body. I wanted to love myself; stand tall and be the woman the broken girl always hoped she would grow into. It has been a personal healing journey over the past two years. 

     I have set myself free from many beauty standards over the course of healing. I no longer workout only in black pants, I now have some of the loudest pants at the gym. Workout in color! I no longer subject myself to sweaters in summer to cover my arms. I wear shorts without fear or shame. Not only did I buy a bathing suit after having not owned one for over a decade, I wore it in public too! I am not the same woman. Self-love and confidence gave me the power to discover the amazing person the beauty industry beat down and kept down. I am a diet industry drop out! I run on self-love and self-care. 

     I had my biggest liberating moment over vacation this year. I wore a bikini. Yes!! I actually did it!! In public!! I was nervous; in truth I almost freaked out. My husband helped keep me in a positive mind frame and reminded me why I had this goal. I took a deep breath and dropped my cover to the ground. There I was...in my bikini...waiting for something to happen. And then, I felt it. Those butterflies in my stomach grew strong and I used them to fuel my inner badass. I turned those tiny wings in my stomach into wings of freedom out of my back.  Empowered! That is what I felt, the greatest feeling of empowerment and confidence I had ever experienced in my life! 

     Life is too short to constantly wait for self-love. Go out and grab it! Tell that ugly voice in your head to sit down and shut up, we only get one shot at this life and I am going to do it my way! Thank you to every person who encouraged me to kick down the walls of beauty standards. This moment was not just for me but also for every person who holds themselves back from giving themselves the happiness they seek. We are all beautiful right now!! 

I present my unphotoshopped liberating love myself moment in the sun! 

He's my favorite human. 

     

Seen Through My Eyes: A Body Positive Photography Project

     I love art. I am an artist. I write. I draw. I paint. I craft. I take pictures. That last one, take pictures, is my favorite. I wanted a way to combine my passion for body positivity and my camera lens.  Armed with my list of wants: I want a way to impact women around me, I want to pass along a feeling of empowerment and personal pride, I want to give an hour or two of my time to make someone feel like art, I started dreaming and that dream has been brought to fruition, I have officially begun my photography project entitled Simply Extraordinary.

     Simply Extraordinary is the idea, the spark, that ignited the artist in me. I, myself, am tired of seeing over-Photoshopped models. These visual lies that only perpetuate one type of beauty, skinny and flawless. Enough! This time I am taking matters into my own hands, I am creating art without erasing the human. I don't believe in flawless. I don't believe in perfection. I do believe in us empowering each other to feel incredible in our bodies. I do not use Photoshop for the purpose of erasing the natural human body. I use Photoshop to enhance the photo into my artistic vision. 

     Beauty is not based on size, shape, measurements, or specific facial structures. Beauty is how we see the world around us; it is how we choose to see those around us. When we see this beauty, we can begin to recognize the beauty within ourselves. Through my camera I hope to inspire moments of feeling beautiful. I hope to capture soulful smiles and heartfelt giggles. I hope to capture confidence, apprehension, strength, weakness, sexiness, modesty, poise, and unruliness. I hope to capture the beauty of the woman in front of me, in all her unique glory. 

I am proud to present my first model for Simply Extraordinary....
I am honored to begin this photographic journey with a great friend. 
Jacki, thank you for the laugher and lesson on power pose! 

If you are in the Las Vegas area and would like to participate in Simply Extraordinary please contact me via email at Alyson@newfigureforward.com. Let me treat you like a model for an hour or two! 

A Rainbow Divided. A Lesson in Gender Equality.

     My son is 9 years old going on 35. Really. He's been tested and has an I.Q. of 125. He is literally too smart for his own good. His ability for adult logic occasionally throws me off guard. His logic taught me a lesson in gender equality I will never forget! I never put much thought in gender equality, it had not affected me until now. 

     While Jacob was getting his glasses fitted and learning all the necessary glass care directions, the man helping him asked him what color glass case he would like then reached in and pulled out a case before Jacob could answer. He held in his hand a pink case. My son's eyes lit up and a huge smile broke out across his face because his favorite color is pink. I held my breath to see what would happen as this man's joke was about to blow up in his face.

     The first thing Jacob did was grab the box and say thank you while jumping up and down in his chair. The man looked taken back and at a loss for words. "Oh, you want that one?" I sat silent allowing my son to speak for himself. Jacob assured the man that yes he did want the pink box, pink is his favorite color! "Oh, you don't maybe want blue or green?" The man was looking at me for support to helping to change my son's mind. I remain quiet. My son very happily held on to his new glass case with zero intention of changing his mind.

     He has been denied "the pink one" every time pink has been an option. Not by myself but by society. If there is a pink option along with a green or blue option, he is always given the "boy" colored choice.  This man gave my son the choice and Jacob excitedly held on to the pink, happy to not have to pretend to like the blue or green box. I could see the wheels turning in this man's head, as this has never happened to him before. His handing a pink box to a boy had always sent little boys screeching "YEUW!! PINK!! No way!!" Not my kid.

     On the drive home Jacob held his pink box like it was a treasure. Then he asked me why boys are not supposed to like pink. Huh, my first run in with a gender equality question and it is coming from my 9 year old. I copped out and asked him why HE thought boys were not supposed to like pink.  "Well, I noticed that when a boy, like me, likes pink or purple they get made fun of but if a girl likes blue or green no one picks on her." I felt this ache in my heart when he said that, because he is right. I asked him, "Why do colors belong to boys or girls? Who said boys can only have some of the colors?" Now brace yourself, for what this 9 year old boy said next is beyond his years. Ready? He said, "I do not think God meant for the rainbow to be divided." Stunned silence. I was at a loss for words. My child, in that moment, blew my mind. 

     As I think about it; it is asinine to limit colors for genders. My 9 year old is right; why should he be made fun of for his color choices and not a girl for liking brown? He waited for me to clarify his confusion of the word and I could only offer him words of empowerment. Digging into my body positive speeches I found myself telling him the same thing I have told friends and family who have been down on themselves, "You have the right to like what you like and no one has the power to make you feel bad about it unless you let them. When someone picks on you for liking pink tell them you are allowed to like what you like, you don't comment on the stuff they like." It felt like a feeble attempt to strengthen my son, who has learned to have thick skin when it comes to bullies. He is the shortest boy in his class, likes pink, often sings Elvis or Johnny Cash, and can quote I Love Lucy. Unfortunately he is used to bullies, however he will not let them get to him. Jacob is not ashamed of who is, therefore someone else's opinion of him is not his problem. 

     I think Jacob is one of the strongest kids I know. I take that back, he is one of the strongest people I know. I am proud of his unwavering belief that he is allowed to like whatever he likes and if someone has a problem with it, it is their problem - not his. Jacob sees no logic in judging people for what they like or what they look like. Jacob can teach our society a few lessons on acceptance and gender equality.  My son likes pink and he makes no excuses for it because God did not intended for the rainbow to be divided! Jacob makes me very, very proud. 

Two Words That Are A Punch in the Gut. Every Time.

     

Not easy to write about. At all. 

      I had no intention of ever writing on the topic. It felt too personal and embarrassing. However, recently I have felt the universe pushing me expose a tender secret. Having already shared so much of myself with my readers, what is one more skeleton ripped out of my closet. I share because I know I am not alone and connecting with others who feel the same is what I need to truly heal.

     I have already spoken about having PCOS and the side effects. I have not spoken about the infertility part of PCOS. I have not shared what it feels like to be a broken woman.  I feel broken, like my box did not come with all the parts. There is a part of womanhood I will never experience and I admit I am jealous of those who do. Jealous so much that when someone tells me they are pregnant or I see a post on Facebook it feels like a punch to the gut; like many, many punches to the gut by an angry boxer going for blood.

     My husband has a 9 year old son from a previous marriage whom I have the joy of calling my son. I do get to be a mom and I love my step-son with all my heart but it's just not the same. I did not get to do the baby part; my step-son was 3 when I came in to the picture. A short time ago my husband and I came to terms with not having a baby together. A year or two ago my husband and I worked with fertility doctors and quickly found ourselves about to lose our savings and all future savings for a decade or two to cover the cost of a bunch of maybes. I never cried more in my life. I lost 125 pounds in hopes of fixing myself. I quit smoking. I made exercise a part of my daily life. Only to have it feels like it was all for nothing. Those months were extremely difficult for me, for us. My husband and I did come out on the other side, tear free and confident in our choice to no longer pursue a baby. It is a choice that I am content with. 97% of the time.

     We have lists of reasons why we tell ourselves we are ok with our situation. In an emergency we have been known to watch YouTube videos of screaming babies to help turn off the "I want a baby" feeling.  It works. I am able to swallow the empty feeling and continue on; I have no choice, and I refuse to be a victim of my situation. Recently, however, the universe has been making my ability to not think about babies very difficult. Facebook friends with adorable baby pictures, a pregnancy announcement from a family member, then several from friends. Back to back to back. It overwhelmed me and a few nights ago I found myself in uncontrollable tears.  I just could not stay strong any longer.

     I do not think about babies on a regular basis. It is not at the forefront of my thoughts, until someone tells me they are pregnant, and then the boxer comes out gunning for me. I have developed "happy baby face".  I know what to say and I might even jump up and down if the occasion calls for it. I am good at being excited for someone else. The only person who sees what I am truly feeling is my husband, who is always stronger than I with baby announcements. I do not begrudge my loved ones the joy of being pregnant, but sometimes I wish they could understand what it is like to know I will never get to say those words. No one will ever jump up and down for me and I'll never know that bond. 

My dog, Marty, is my heart. 

     The boxer leaves me alone most days, to rest in his corner, waiting for someone to announce a baby, and only then do I feel that punch in the gut. Only then do I scramble to YouTube to watch a video of a tantrum. Only then do I shed a few tears in private. Only then do I question all the rational choices I have made myself make many times now. I will not have a baby. I will be the best damn step-mom I can be. My husband loves me regardless. I will always baby talk to my dogs. I will spoil my family because they are my world. One day it will just be my husband and I and I am ok with that. Most days. 

     I cherish the time I have with my step-son, he and I are very close. I am Mom to him. I volunteer in his classroom, I cheer for him at soccer games, and use my spit on a tissue to get the schmutz off his face. I treat him no different than I would my own. I am blessed to have my family and I love them dearly. 

     I share this with you, my readers, because I know I am not alone and a reminder helps every now and then. If I am your reminder that you are not alone, I hope I help. When a woman cries for the loss of what never was, she does not cry alone. We are women and we are incredible. You are incredible. I am incredible. My, our, inability to create life does not take away from the love we show those around us. We matter to someone! 

A Year of Honest Blogging

Today, July 10th, marks the one year anniversary of New Figure Forward. 

     A year ago I was toying with an idea to share my story to help fill a void I felt was lacking in the weight loss world.  I had only seen the 'after ' pictures; I had never heard an 'after 'story. I thought perfection would be found in a pant size. Imagine my surprise when I felt confused and lost with my new figure.  My entire body changed. My face changed. The way the world looked at me changed.  The way I felt on the inside and the way I looked on the outside did not match. When you have only known yourself one way, it is terrifying to suddenly see yourself as a stranger.  This made for a frustrating couple of 'after' years.

     I missed my bigger body on occasion. I did not like being a size 28, but I knew how to be a size 28.  Even though I wanted to lose weight, I had still accepted my role in life to be the wall flowered fat girl. I knew how to be her. I knew how people would react to her. I was her my entire life.  Now, a size 12, I had to learn the new me and the world that came along with my new figure.

     Six years after my 125 pound weight loss I have a voice. I have confidence.  I know who I am in my new figure. I found myself.  I have had people tell me the transformation they have witnessed in me is amazing.  Those that know me best have watched me go from a shoulders hunched unhealthy girl to a proud woman with her head held high.  The confidence did not hit me when I put on my dream pant size; it happened years later.

     This blog started out as a way to show the other side to weight loss. The 'after' to the 'happily ever'.  The mental healing process, the self acceptance, and the willingness to relearn myself.  These were not topics I had heard anyone else talk about. No one complains about life after weight loss! Life after weight loss is perfect and everything just falls into place. Lies. All lies! I knew I was not the only person struggling in their 'ever after'.


     I was right. I was not the only person struggling.  Through my blog, I realized the struggle to love ourselves is not reserved for specific weights or sizes. Women, some with figures I used to long for, all struggle with this need to achieve perfection so that they can love themselves.  Self-love is not the prize at the end of the journey. Self-love can be had right now. Self-love will blossom when given the green light.
   

     Moving into my second year as a blogger, I am not the same woman that started writing a year ago. This journey has been immensely healing and liberating. New Figure Forward paved my purpose to inspire others to love themselves. I will continue to advocate for less Photoshop, a variety of shapes and sizes represented in media and advertising, and the belief that our bodies are perfect - stretch marks and all! This next year will be a big one for New Figure Forward. I may have a few surprises up my sleeve. 

     My words mean nothing without someone to read them. I thank all of my friends, those I know personally and those I have met online, and my family. Without the encouragement and support this project would not have gone far. Every email I receive, every like on a post, every comment made helps me to continue pushing forward and fight for change.  Thank you to my readers! This day would not have happened without you! 

(An extra special shout out to my husband. To a man who has encouraged me grow into my own. A man who has pushed me to be my best. A man who has never seen anything but a beautiful woman in front of him.  He edited every blog, took pictures, and inspired ideas.  Thank you husband for everything you have done for me, my self esteem, and my view on the world! I love you more than words can express!) 

Run It Forward

      Carol Sue and I met in a class at the local community college. Years ago. We clicked instantly, they way you know that this person is truly a friend.  We enjoyed getting to know each other and had it not been for Facebook, we may have drifted apart as life went on. Facebook has kept this incredible woman in my life.  We have watched each others lives unfold, always keeping in touch.  She and her husband where even guests at my wedding. She has seen my transformation both physical and mental. Carol Sue is someone I know I will have in my life regardless of where we end up.  So when she asked me to run her first 5k with her, there was no way I was saying no.  

       This 5k was on an up and down track, starting out uphill. We ran side by side. We never stopped.  We even exchanged a few stories and giggles.  I am extremely proud of my friend.  She showed her inner strength and determination.  I am honored and humbled to be the person she asked to run with her and support her.  It felt like paying it forward to every person who encouraged me and helped me reach my goal.  Individually we are amazing, but together we are unstoppable. 

     We finished the 5k side by side.  Carol Sue was met at the finish line by her family, cheering her on and ringing a cow bell.  I was incredibly happy for my friend.  To have been there to support her, push her, and remind her that she is a bad ass was the greatest gift my soul could ask for.  It is my mission to help women empower themselves and enrich their lives.  We ran, never stopping, and no one asked us how much we weighed or what size we wear. In life, what matters is the love and support we give each other and the knowledge that we are greater than a number!

    This run was called The Recycled 5k. Instead of new printed t-shirts and medals, they used left overs from pervious races. I loved this idea! Nothing goes to waste. When we crossed the finish line everyone was handed a medal. All of them different. I was handed the Labor of Love medal.  Symbolic. Thank you universe for the opportunity to encourage a friend to be her best.  Thank you for the lessons in my life that have made me who I am today; a person who inspires others to tap into their inner bad ass.

My Hair Loss Exposed

      I am open about my hair loss due to PCOS. I used to have thick curly hair. I now have about a quarter of what I used to have. I tried to make my long hair last as long as I could but one day, I just could not look at the hair in my hands any more. I called my hair stylist, a trusted friend, who worked her magic and gave me my signature pixie cut.  

That was about 3 years ago. Since that time I have tried products to help my hair grow;

     I tried Rogaine for a year.  What a pain in the ass. Twice a day I had to put this liquid on my head and pray that it didn't run into my face or down my neck. With my hair being as thin as it is, any liquid on my head destroys my style and until I wash my hair there is no saving it.  I hated this stuff. It did nothing but remind me that my hair is falling out and I have no control over it. That purple bottle embarrassed me every day.  I was petrified of going bald. I still am.  When my supply was used up I didn't get more. In the year I used it nothing changed so I saved my money. 









     The next year I tried the Keranique Hair Care line. Nothing.  I used it religiously everyday for a year. I followed the directions to the letter. Nothing. I used the styling products that came with it. I used the scalp goo that is made to speed up the growth. Nothing. My scalp enjoyed the nice tingling feeling. That tingling feeling that makes you think something is happening. When I reached the end of the bottles my heart sank, this product was not my miracle cure. 







     After two years with no luck and a continuing loss of hair, I gave up on products to rub on my head.  I also decided I would try a wig during the goo experiments. I missed my long hair. I purchased a long layered wig that looked close to my old hair style. I wore it all day feeling pretty again.  When I got home I was overcome with embarrassment and ran into the bedroom and would not let my husband see me.  I eventually came out, tears streaming down my face.  Somewhere I had lost my feeling of pretty and just felt awkward. After a good ugly cry I concluded that I liked myself better with short hair.  The wig turned into therapy for making peace with my new look. The nonreturnable wig sits in my closet. It has been a long time since I have put it on. I use it for costumes and that is all. 

     
     The worst part about losing my hair is not losing the length; it is being able to see my scalp. Wind is not my friend. It would take me some time to perfect my style with products to cover my scalp, only to go outside and have it windblown to hell. I used to be incredibly self conscious until I found a Joan Rivers product.  This powder saved me. I randomly found it on QVC while channel surfing one day. I saw Joan Rivers and stopped, thinking What in the heck is she peddling on TV? I was meant to see her that day. This product covers my scalp, does not come off until I shampoo my hair (not even on my pillow case!!), and looks natural. I no longer obsess about my hair because with this powder I don't see my scalp.  

     My fear was having brown lines running down my face at the gym. Nope. I workout hard. I work up the sweat to prove it and have never once had the powder come off!! It's amazing I use it to fill in my eyebrows now.  It's about $45 and lasts me 2 months. WORTH EVERY PENNY!! 

     Most days I have made peace with my hair's fate. Since changing my diet and eating for my PCOS the hair lose has slowed down. On the days I cry and curse my hair I let myself get mad and cry. I feel better afterward. I am allowed to be angry; however I will not let myself stew in it.  I talk openly about it without shame. I am not able to control this, why should I be ashamed of it? 

     I was caught off guard when this picture popped up from the event I went to Monday night to promote my blog. My first reaction was embarrassment. I thought I would die. I wanted to contact the photographer and beg to have the picture taken down. I felt humiliated by my exposed scalp. I was mad at myself for not catching it before I left home. At first.

     I stared at myself in this picture. I stared at my truth. Before I could build up hateful inner monologue I made myself make a list of everything that is awesome about this picture. There is an educated driven woman in this picture. I am promoting my blog to spread awareness of PCOS and promote body positivity. For me to go out, by myself, and talk to strangers is not something I used to do. My passion overpowered my anxiety and I am extremely proud of myself for that.  I must practice what I preach; self love, kindness, and acceptance of what I cannot change. 

Looking Naked in the Face

My husband and I. 

It's a Saturday night and I am going out with my husband. I have taken my time on my hair and make-up. I have completed the jump dance into my Spanex and I have on my bra that completes my silhouette. My dress is form fitting and looks amazing. I look amazing. I am proud of my reflection. I worked hard to transform into a woman who can look into a mirror and mentally high five myself.  I feel spectacular and I am ready to knock my husband’s socks off and enjoy date night.  Until....

The date is over and we find ourselves back at home. I am now faced with the process of de-sexing myself. There is a moment when I feel sad. The clothes hit the floor and I free myself from my undergarments…this has often times been the end to my confidence.  My body loses its wow factor in my eyes. The pile of clothes at my feet took with it my glamorous body. The reality is my body is scared and will always remind me of the body I once had.  I can point at, poke at, and pinch all the parts of me I wish were different.  

I was frustrated with having changed my body only to end up disliking it more.  My bigger body left my smaller body with empty spaces. A good bra hides the truth until it comes off.  I struggled with feeling like my husband would notice the emptiness and be disappointed.  I used to push him away because I could not handle my own feelings of embarrassment.  I felt ashamed of my stretch marks, extra skin, and emptiness.  

I struggled with feeling sexy and feminine. My body was not the beautiful body I see on TV. I had lost so much of my hair (click here to read about my struggle with PCOS )I had to cut it all off, and my padded bra reminded me daily that I was missing real sexiness.  I hated that I was a lights off woman. A strip and dash under the covers woman. This was not why I lost weight! I wanted to feel confident in my body without clothing.  I had to dig deep and fix what I saw as beautiful. I needed to heal my disappointed body and mind.  I sought out role models to help me learn to embrace my body.  I encourage everyone to find role models for themselves. Who makes you feel good in your skin?

I have been asked why I like Tess Munster. After all, we're two different body types, what could I get out of being her fan? Confidence. That is what Tess Munster gave me.  Confidence to embrace my body the way it is and to treat it with respect. Tess makes no apologies for her body and is rocking the modeling world (hello Italian Vogue!)  Tess embraces her body with such confidence so I thought to myself, why can't I do the same? 

Sexiness is not a body type, or size, or feature; it is an emotion, a feeling, an attitude. Sexiness radiates from the inside and it feeds off confidence. I am always reminding myself to embrace confidence, hold my head high, and remember that being a woman has little to do with body parts or pant size and everything to do with how I live my life and how I see myself.  

Elly Mayday is a young Canadian model who taught me to embrace what I have because we do not have our bodies for long. Things can go wrong with our bodies.  What we have today is not guaranteed for tomorrow.  Elly bravely battled ovarian cancer publicly, inspiring thousands.  She does not hide the scar on her stomach from her surgery to remove her uterus at 25 years old!  When she lost her hair from chemo her bald photos were nothing less than stunning. Her bravery showed me I should be thankful for the hair I have and not let hair be the thing that takes away my sexiness. 

Tess and Elly have been huge contributors to my vow to not give away my self esteem to anyone; I protect how I feel about myself. Eleanor Roosevelt was a brilliant woman and no truer words were spoken; "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."  I will not let the photoshopped lies effect how I see my body. We are not stupid and everyone knows the magazine covers are lies, so why do we let them dictate how we feel about our bodies? Not anymore!  

I discovered a project called Under the Red Dress that forever changed that way I will look at my breasts. The ugliness I have felt looking at my breasts after losing 125 pounds crushed my self esteem.  I hated my breasts. I desperately wanted implants.  Then I found Under the Red Dress and quit my bitching on the spot. I learned to be thankful for what I have because my breasts may not be perfect but I am blessed have them! I could no longer hate what so many women sacrifice in order to live. I felt selfish having cursed my body for not being perfect. I am strong, my body does what I ask it too, and I am not the hideous beast I have pictured in my head. 

A room filled with women, all stripped down, we would see how similar our bodies actually are to each other. We all have stretch marks, we all have different shaped breasts, we all have things we can pinch and poke. These are our bodies. Real bodies. Strip down the model or actress on the magazine and we will see that their bodies are actually just like our bodies. They get special lighting, air brush body make-up, and Photoshopping to make them look perfect. However, naked body to naked body we are all cut from the same mold. The mold of imperfect bodies that tell our individual stories.  

I have made peace with my body, most days. I am not perfect and will catch myself critiquing my reflection or pushing my husbands hands away. I stop myself now as quickly as I can. I stop the negative inner monologue. I stop pushing. Someday I will look back on my life and wish that I had loved my body more. I am going to look back and wish I had accepted the touching and love. Someday I will look back and think I was insane for thinking I was anything but stunning.  My body is not my enemy. I will dress it up and showcase it with pride and I will set it free and embrace what nature and my choices have given me.  My body is mine and it is like everyone else on the planet....perfectly imperfect! 

Photoshop and My Son

     

My 9 year old son asked me what Photoshop was at dinner last week.  I explained that it is a photo altering program that can do thousands of different things to change an image. He seemed satisfied with that answer. Then he asked me why I do not like Photoshop.  I knew this moment was going to happen one day; that his little ears were picking up things I said to friends and family. As the mother to a boy I feel it is my duty to raise a son that respects women of all sizes and understands that all bodies are beautiful.  I want my son to understand the images that he is bombarded with are not real. No one is flawless.  I want my son to question an image that looks perfect and understand women and men are not perfect in "real" life.  

     I explained to him that it is not that I do not like Photoshop. Photoshop can be used to create art or enhance a photograph.  What I do not like is that Photoshop is used to create flawless looking people. No one is flawless in life and looking at perfect people can make someone feel bad about how they look. I do not looking at ads that are lying to me with a Photoshopped model.  I could see the questions forming in his face. 

     I pulled a magazine from the recycling bin and showed him ads of women with perfect faces. I told him to look at my face when I smile, "See the lines that I get around my eyes? Now look at this model selling tooth paste. Where are the lines around her eyes? Smile like she is and feel around your eyes. Feel the wrinkles on your face. Wrinkles around the eyes are natural to everyone when they smile. Yet, this model doesn't have any? Seem odd to you?"  He nodded with wide eyes. I could see the veil beginning to lift off his eyes. Then I showed him the Dove commercial. He sat with his mouth open watching the transformation take place. 

     It is a rare moment in life when my child is quiet. We sat in silence for a few moments while he processed what he saw. Finally he turns to me and says, "I understand now why you do not like Photoshop." What he did next brought tears to my eyes. He got out of his chair and came to give me a hug. It was not just any hug; my little boy hugged me tight and stayed there for a few minutes. Finally he says, "I think you're beautiful and so does Dad. I hope everyone has someone to remind them they are beautiful." 

     My son gives me hope that I can teach him to not just accept the images he sees.  I believe the next generation should be taught that the images they see are lies. My son now understands why my magazines go in the recycling bin without me looking at them. He took it upon himself to toss one in the bin this week on my behalf.   My son sees me with no makeup, messy morning hair, and sweaty after my workouts.  A mother to a son is the most beautiful person he knows and I hope by showing him my realness as a human he will internalize the realness of women (and men).  

     While my son is young I am the role model for women to him. How I treat myself is how he will grow to view women. He is part of my motivation to maintain a healthy body, physically and mentally.  My wish is that I represent strength, intelligence, kindness, compassion, and class to him. My wish for my son is for him to grow up to value women for who they are and not base their beauty on the unrealistic physical lies brought about by Photoshop. 

Photoshop Changed My Mind

     I don't want the flabby arms but I have them and I work hard to strengthen them. It's okay that I don't love my arms, their mine and I'm the one that has to live with them.  It's another emotion when someone points them out as a flaw, throws out insulting comments about how big they are, then Photoshops them to their standard of beauty.  I knew my arms were big but since when does that make them wrong? I was offended by someone thinking I wasn't beautiful the way I am.  I was offended that they thought they were doing me a favor. In that moment of mentally defending my arms, I discovered a seed of self love and pride.

     I stared at this photo of myself imagining those sticks were my arms. I couldn't make the image match. I come with big arms. They're big, not because they're fat, they're big because I USED to be 300 pounds! They are my badge of honor. This extra skin that waves along with me, I worked HARD for that.  I'm not a celebrity and I don't want to be treated like one, meaning, leave my "flaws" alone. This is not the cover of a magazine, these are personal photos that my family will hold onto and cherish for many years. I'm guessing someone might notice, out of all my pictures, this one I look different.  

     I don't wish to lie to myself. I do not want to look at photos that have altered my body. Blend out the zit, stain on my shirt, or even a wrinkle or two, but my body is what it is and it is beautiful.  My flab, rolls, stretch marks, and cellulite are mine. If I can learn to accept them so can the people around me.  I was so offended by the Photoshopping and someone thinking they were doing me a favor that I embraced my arms, mentally hugging them and telling them that it's ok, I see them as beautiful. 
   
     The Photoshopper who gave me those sticks taught me a valuable lesson. Without that image I may never had made peace with myself, with my "flaws". I do not see my arms as a flaw anymore. My body is not wrong; society is wrong for subjecting women to a beauty standard that isn't real. Celebrities and models are Photoshopped on everything. I could transform my body into the best it can be and it still would not be considered perfect. I need to see myself as perfect now because regardless of what I do to it, someone will find something wrong. 

    As for the photo that started it all, it lives under my bed (it's a large canvas photo). I can't look at it because it makes me sad. I hold on to it for several reasons - the most important being the lesson that came from it. This is the first summer I am not subjecting myself to cardigans in 100 and something degree heat to hide my arms. I show my arms with pride now, they have become my middle finger to unrealistic beauty standards. This is me, I am beautiful  and no one can make me ashamed of my body. 

Damn Dress. Wrong Assumption. Stronger Conviction.

How to begin?

     One evening for an event, I made the choice to wear the dress I have deemed my "I feel blah" dress. It is a size too big for me, ties in around the waist, and with a nice cardigan I still feel pretty and not stuffed into it.  I love this dress; it is my dress version of "stretchy pants" when I need to look nice. I am ok with my extra holiday fluff as it will go away and I will be back to my normal weight after the holidays. I forgive myself for the treats I have had and relax. I am strong in my convictions about my weight and how I feel about my body. At a gathering the universe decided to test just how strong I am. 

     As I said before, the dress ties in around the waist. The string is sewn in the dress. Pull, cinch, and tie. I pulled and tied a bit to tight because during the evening when I leaned forward in my chair the string broke! There was nothing I could do. In that moment I knew I had two choices: hate my body or hate the dress. I chose to hate the dress. It betrayed me. There is nothing wrong with my body. I had simply tied it too tight and unfortunately moved in just the right way that...snap...my dress now hung on my body like a moo moo.  I proceeded with my evening, pulling my cardigan around my body to try and disguise my potato sack dress.  

     As the evening went on I forgot to focus on keeping my cardigan wrapped around me, it did not have buttons to keep it closed on its own.  I was enjoying conversations with friends when the true test of my self esteem came a-knocking. I extended a pleasantry to a woman I know. I gave her a hug and engaged in small talk. She began to congratulate me, going on about how happy she was for me. My husband and I give each a look and it occurred to both of us...SHE THINKS I'M PREGNANT!!  Just to be sure I asked her what I did to be congratulated on, maybe I missed something. No, the look on her face said it all. She really thought I was pregnant and my response informed her I was not.  She quickly changed the subject to my hair, complimenting me on it, and then darted away from us as soon as she saw a way out. 

     Here is the moment. The true test to having rebuilt my self esteem.  I felt stunned. I have never had that happen before. I turned to my husband, who is an extremely supportive man, and I could see the look of panic on his face. He did not know how I was going to react and he was braced for something.  That moment, needless to say, killed my evening and I wanted to go home. We said our goodbyes and left.  I was struggling to think rationally. I know I do not look pregnant in clothes that fit me. I had to have repeated this to myself one hundred times on the drive home. My husband did his very best to remind me I am beautiful and it was the dresses fault.  Agreed, it was the over sized dress that apparently emphasized the wrong body parts.  

     I barely walked into the house and I had ripped the dress off my body, cursing at it, and threw it into the trash. I stood staring at my beautiful dress crumpled up in the trashcan and I felt confused.  I am body positive. My mission is to spread love for all bodies, yet in that moment I felt a tiny bit of dislike for my body. A tiny bit of anger for eating the cookies. A tiny spark of anger for feeling a spark of anger.  I put on the largest shirt I could find and like a child I pouted. Yup, lip out pout.  

     A few minutes later I was done.  I had successfully shaken myself back to normal. There is NOTHING wrong with my body - it WAS the dress.  Plus, she should not have assumed I was pregnant. It was a bit rude to openly congratulate me without knowing for sure if a baby was on the way. I learned a lesson from her. I will NEVER assume a woman is pregnant. EVER!! That moment messed up my head for a bit.  I was shocked and it took me some time to shake it off, though it also showed me just how far I have come. I am strong. I did not fall apart; instead I fought to build myself back up and remind myself that the assumption had nothing to do with my body and everything to do with a broken dress.  That was one hell of a test to prove how strong I am. I hope I passed! 

     I have since rescued my beloved "I feel blah" dress from the trash.  The broken string cannot be fixed but a chunky belt will do the trick and look cuter anyway.  I do have plans to wear a form fitting dress at the next event just to squash any rumors that may be milling about.  So universe, although I wavered for a moment, I am still proud of my body, and even learned a lesson.  

Conversation with My Bully

     Facebook has made it so that people do not slip away from us. We may not continue to have deep relationships with some people but we can always check in and see how life has treated them.  I have typed in names of people I have known at all times in my life. Elementary school friends to old colleagues.  One night I decided to look up my elementary school bully, just to see what became of the boy who tortured me in school. It didn't take very long to find him. I sat staring at his profile picture. His picture brought with it memories I had filed deep in the back of my brain.  I decided to message him so that I could let the fat girl in me have her moment of glory and ensure that he saw what a gorgeous woman I grew up to be.  

     A small back story to help paint the picture of my elementary school experience; I went to a small town school in South Jersey. From kindergarten to 8th grade the school's total student population may have been 75 kids.  I was one of 2 "fat" kids and my bully was the only African American in the school. Life was very different for the two of us. 

     The following is the conversation that took place via Facebook. The impact this moment had on me laid to rest the sad, angry little girl who felt like her childhood was taken away by a cruel bully.  I have not edited the text in any way. This is a direct cut and paste.  My original message to him ended up not being apart of the messages between us. I don't remember what I wrote to start the conversation.  (Names have been removed to protect the privacy of those involved.) 

Bully: yea its me wow i used to pick on u a lot..i never forgot all that.

Me: Yea, I never forgot it either but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. There has to be that one kid that gets picked on in every class, it's tradition. At least now no one picks on me anymore You know what I remember most? I remember 4th grade when you didn't pick on me and we were really good friends. 5th and 6th grade changed all that but when you're nice you were a good friend. 

You have to love Facebook...who knew I would find you of all people...

Bully: all i said was wowwwwwwww...i used to talk about u all the time...like yo it was a girl i picked on all the time i was so mean to her...but as i thought about..you were my scapegoat to draw attention away from me..i was the only black thing in there..it was wierd for me cause i was real bad b4 i came there..i want to appologize but i believe shit like that builds chracter n happens for a reason...i used to think ur soul haunted me with bad luck..i do regret it...you looking good now tho.

Me: You can take some credit for who I am today. You made me stronger because I had to find an inner strength in myself to not let you completely kill my spirit. I had self esteem issues for years, but now...I'm OK. Just as you said, things happen for a reason and like I said every school has to have that one kid that gets picked on. I'm OK with it having been me because I was strong enough to take it and grow from it. I'm a tough lady now

Thank you for saying sorry. It means a lot to the little fat girl in me. I understand needing to put attention anywhere else but on yourself. We had more in common than we knew as kids.

I'm glad to have had the opportunity to talk about it. It's not often people have the chance to say sorry for things they did some many years ago. I have no hard feelings, and only wish the best for you! So no more bad luck!!

P.S. Thanks for the compliment, coming from you it means a lot!

This brief conversation enlightened and healed me. It does not make it right but even the bully had his reasons why he behaved the way he did. I am proud of the woman I grew up to be. I worked hard to become her, to keep my head up, even when I had people around me taking joy in trying to push me down. A long time ago I was told that the greatest revenge in life is to be successful. I held on to that and made it my mantra. I was not beat down, I did not give up, and from those lessons I became who I am today. My past has given me purpose.