Skinny Jeans and All

When I was 20 and getting ready to ship off for Paris my mom took me shopping.  Among the things she bought me was a ridiculously expensive pair of jeans.  Jeans that made my butt look amazing.  Jeans that hugged me in all the right places.  Jeans that perfectly skimmed the pointy toe flats that were all the rage then.

I loved those jeans.  I wore them all around Paris.  Drawing in the Louvre.  On dates with a very handsome French man.  Out to Giverny.  I was beautiful and young and I had the wardrobe to prove it.

Then my mom got sick, then she died, then I dated some truly awful men, then had some fallings out with friends, then got a soul sucking job, then etc, etc, etc.  Life wasn't so beautiful and I was no longer so young.

Instead I was this... and only because I love you and want to help you am I willing to share this most god awful photo.

It was an incredibly painful time in my life.  And instead of womaning up and dealing with it, I crammed my face.  I put on a protective layer.  I insulated myself against the hurt.

It was easier that way.  To numb myself with refined sugar and carbs.  To create five minutes of bliss as a whole carton of Ben and Jerry's passed between my lips.

Everything else was so outta control.  So awful.  So tragic.  And I didn't have the voice to express my true feelings.

So I didn't.  I ate them.  And ate them.  And ate them.  And with each bite I started hating myself.  Because look at me.  That spunky, beautiful, creative girl.  That girl who ran away to Paris, who pierced her nose, who modeled nude for figure drawing classes, who was bubbly and charming, well she was no where to be found.

I squashed her and most anything I sat on.

All the while those jeans.  Those pretty, skinny, amazingly perfect life girl jeans sat at the back of my closet.  For awhile they mocked me, "You'll never wear us again.  Look at you."

But I kept them.  Mainly because they reminded me of a time when life was good.  When I was happy. When I was myself.

They fell outta the top of my closet when I was packing my stuff to move here.  And while I had shed some of my dead mommy weight, I still couldn't button them.  But I tossed them into my bag anyway because I was moving West.  And you never know.  And I'm sentimental.

As most of you know, not only did I get them on AND buttoned the other day, I discovered they're slightly too big.

I wish I could answer all your, "how did you do it," requests with a simple diet and exercise plan.  But I can't.  Because my transformation has been much deeper than that.

Yes, I started drinking green smoothies.  And doing a heck of a lot of yoga.  And cutting out carbs and sugar.  But none of that would have worked had I not done the hardest thing of all.

Loved myself.

Loved every extra part of me.  Every roll, protrusion, and wrinkle.  Every feeling.  Every thought.  Even the bad ones.  Even the ones I had tried to eat away.

If I hadn't loved all that.  Hadn't completely unbuttoned myself.  None of that other stuff would have worked.  It would have just been a crash diet.  A fad.  Something to try.  Another way to regulate my feelings.  And ultimately another cycle of success and failure and self loathing.  Like all those cookies.

Because it wouldn't have been genuine.  Wouldn't have treated the underlying problem just the very large symptom.

But when you reach down and deal with the yuck.  When you give yourself permission to be you no matter what the scale says (no matter what other people say for that matter).  When you really love you.  Taking care of your  body is easy.  You don't need plans and diets and regimens.  You just naturally want to honor, and love, and nourish it.  Because that's what you do when you love something.

Is it harder this way?  Yes.  Does it take longer?  Yes.  But my gosh it's so much more rewarding.  Because this way of being lasts a lifetime.  And is independent of what the scale says.  Of which jeans fit.  Of who died.  Or broke up with you.

Although I gotta admit, sliding back into my skinny jeans feels amazing.  Mainly because I know I'm sliding back into my true self.

I love you no matter what size you are but I want you to love and care for the body you're in.

XO,
Sara

PS-If you truly are interested in weight loss, spirituality, yoga, green smoothies, and the "plan" I used I'm in the process of creating The Embodiment Project: Six Weeks to a More Vibrant Mind, Body, and Soul.  It will be jammed packed with tips, tools, and support to began loving yourself and the body you're in.  I'll keep you guys posted as I move forward with the project in case any of you want to sign up.