Phat Ass

This is what I think when I go shopping. "Shit." F***." "Ugh." "Not today, satan."

Don't get me wrong. I like shopping. I like looking at clothes, dreaming about the wardrobe I could have if my funds were unlimited and I was that gluttonous. I like touching the fabric, and gawking at colors and patterns. I have to touch everything. I remember doing this as a child too. I love fashion. I love clothes. I like the freedom that fashion gives me.

But. I hate trying clothes on. I hate the disappointment when something I love doesn't fit properly. I hate the panic and anxiety I get from worrying about sizes and whether or not I fit into this or that. I hate the feeling of my heart sinking when I have to... Cue the horror music... go up a size.

Summertime is hard. It's hot as hell, and I simultaneously want to go naked and hide the horror that is my body. In reality, shorts and a tank are probably a better option. But then in the shorts and tank, I think of how fat I must look to other people, and I am mortified. Shopping for shorts, swimsuits. A freakin' nightmare. And then my brain likes to say, "Run more. Eat less." And then my heart has to say, "F.U. It's 102 degrees here. Would you like me to give you a stroke?"

Then I have to step back and remind myself that I am not disgusting, that body dysmorphic disorder is a real asshole, and I have to kick it out. I have no time for that in my life.

Like almost every woman, I am sure, I try to wear clothing that doesn't exactly fit. Clothing that is a tad too small so that I can say I fit into an x instead of a y. Then I buy the too-small shorts, the too-short shirt, and I worry the whole time I'm wearing it. Then I engage in abusive language with myself. Is my ass hanging out? Is my fat hanging out of my shirt? Are my love handles visible? Am I disgusting? (If anyone else made these statements to me, I would probably physically attack lolz. So why do I say these to myself? Do better, self!)

I spend the whole time pulling the shorts down and stretching the shirt to cover my body when I could have easily gotten another size up and just dealt with the number. But it's the disorder in me that keeps me buying the smaller clothing. It's the shame and the guilt. So that I don't have to admit that my body is seemingly much bigger than it used to be. So that I don't have to admit that I don't engage in disordered eating. Because sometimes that is hard. Even when I am proud of my progress, sometimes I feel like I have failed my body by conquering the disorder. Isn't that messed up? I deserve better than that.

I feel like we have a false sense of our future selves. We make empty promises to ourselves about our appearance. "When I'm a: size 2, thin, my hair is long." "I will finally: get a boyfriend, have my dream job, be comfortable at the pool." Numbers change, weight fluctuates, hair changes. So why have we convinced ourselves that life will be better in the future, based on numbers and sizes? Why have we convinced ourselves we deserve love and happiness only when we have reached our "goal" looks? We have to accept and love ourselves as we are now. There is nothing wrong with a little self-improvement, but numbers are meaningless and we have to accept that. Apologizing or being sad about a size or a number is sort of like apologizing for having a body. Which is kind of bullshit. So don't!

Today I was buying shorts, and I tried something new. I picked up a new size in H&M, a store that is notorious for making tiny ass pants and shorts. I took the bigger, more realistic size first so that I could try it on and save myself from some disappointment of trying on a small size first and worrying about tightness or shortness. I tried the shorts on, and they were not only a perfect fit, but my phat ass looked great! And most importantly, I was comfortable wearing them.

There was a time that I was a size zero. And I was very sick and unhappy. I wish I could tell my 17 year old self that there will be a time that my shorts will be eight sizes bigger and I will be so happy with that body because I escaped from the rut of anorexia. I will be happy because of the things my body will do and the places it will take me. I would say, "Jamie, you will live in Spain and travel Europe with that body. You will run marathons and triathlons and train for big things in that body. And you won't give a single shit what size your shorts are."
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Which is why I'm writing this today. I gave that up. Just like I gave up getting on the scale and worrying about THAT number.

So about this summer... We can do this. We can get through it together. I will do what I can with The Peace Mobile to project all the body love this summer. Until next time, stop with the numbers okay?!

Invincible Summer

I have developed a theory that people personify the season they were born into. I was born in February, the coldest month in winter. Although winter is the least favorite, harshest season to some, I think it is lovely. The snow falls and covers everything in sparkling sheets of white. The air is crisp, and the nights are bright.

My best friend, born in October, is a warm fall day, easygoing as the quiet breeze that gently removes the dried leaves from the trees and places them on the ground.

Another best friend, born in May, is the epitome of cheery spring flowers. She is always pleasant, and she brings the sunshine when she walks into a room.

And I love so many people who were born in the summertime. My Papaw, my mother, my great-grandmother, two sisters, my uncle, and another best friend were all born in the heat of the season. They are all fiery and playful and full of energy. I would love these people fiercely no matter what, but their fire certainly balances out my ice. They are my sunshine when I am too brisk. They are full of life when I am empty. Yin and yang. Which explains why missing Papaw, one of the loves of my life, has been so hard. His heart completed mine.

My grandfather's birthday would have been today. This summer has been undeniably hard without him. He adored every summer activity.

Grilling,
golfing,
gardening,
running,
sitting on the porch,
snoozing in the sun,
walking on the beach,
taking in the waves,
soaking in the rays,
watching the fireworks,
drinking sweet tea,
laughing in the grass.

All of these remind me of him.

"In the depths of winter I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." I really did. Papaw is my summer, as I am the winter. He will always be in my heart, thawing the ice that's been freezing there for years. He is invincible.

Happy birthday, my love.

If you wish to make a difference in the lives of those suffering from cancer, please consider making a donation to the American Cancer Society C2C Run http://main.acsevents.org/goto/cupcakes4acure or specifically pancreatic cancer patients, the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network,  https://netcommunity.pancan.org/sslpage.aspx?pid=796

xo,
JB