When I was at my heaviest weight, I would desperately wish to be thin. If I can lose weight, I’ll be happier about my body and myself. I imagined people congratulating me and complimenting me. I imagined dazzling my husband with my thin body. I fantasized about buying swimwear and clothes.
So I lost 90 pounds. People congratulated me and complimented me. I bought new clothes and new swimwear. I felt happy and proud! And then a new thought crept in: if I could just get rid of this loose skin hanging off my belly. Then I’ll look like I’m fit. Then I’ll fit in with a fit crowd.
So I got plastic surgery. I subjected myself to the inherent risks of surgery, I spent thousands of dollars, and I spent 12 weeks recovering. I like the results. I look sexy! And then I started thinking: if I could just get my breasts lifted. If I could just get rid of the extra skin on my thighs…
Sigh. In my weight loss journey, the goalpost keeps moving. You already have this one figured out— it’s not a problem with my body, it’s a problem with the way my eyes see my body and what my heart decides will make me happy. It’s fleeting. It’s exhausting.
I’m not just a human, I’m a woman. And we have ongoing, complicated relationships with our ever-changing bodies. I don’t have this one completely figured out; on the one hand, I’m thankful that dissatisfaction with my unhealthy body led me to pursue a healthy lifestyle change. I enjoy how my belly looks after plastic surgery. But I feel, deep in my soul, a continuous chasing of a target that cannot be hit, and it’s unsettling. What I have figured out, is that when I am in a season of regular exercise and fueling my body with nutrition, I don’t care as much about the targets I don’t hit. My brain is otherwise occupied with other goals that it determines are more worthwhile (at least temporarily): running a sub-2 hour half marathon and a 25-minute 5k, completing a triathlon, deadlifting my body weight, accomplishing one little pull-up.
Fresh Start Fitness 