In my closet are a pair of beloved well-worn, faded, slightly torn size 6 Lizwear blue jeans. They are my absolute favorite pair of blue jeans in the whole wide world! At the beginning of every year, I take them out, shake them, look them over and assure myself that at the conclusion of this year; I will wear them once again!
The bluejeans have not been worn since 2001.
If I were walking down the street and saw a slightly disheveled individual suddenly wave their arms up and down like a chicken and bark like a dog, I would instantly label this person crazy. Yet, when my brand of crazy appears in my life; I dismiss it. Or…better yet- I repeat the insane behavior! I am a bold, bodacious, and ever so curvy size 14. It’s time for some brutal honesty.Every year I set a plethora of resolutions that, although well-intentioned, never get met. Why not try something different? Why not focus on one word that motivates me toward action?
I must accept the fact that I am not a size 6.
I am cool with the fact that I am more than a few sizes bigger. I can even make peace with the notion of weighing a bit more. And, hey.. with big hips and big booty being “in”, it definitely feels like #winning. However, I do have an issue with the fact that while carrying laundry from the basement to the top floor, I wheeze like an 80-year-old cat with a hairball. I also can’t ignore that family members suffer from preventable diseases due to weight. I’m out of shape. After losing my father I began to realize that there is no plate of enchiladas or red velvet cheesecake was worth my health. I can’t continue to use food as a way to cope with my issues either. There are no more excuses.
I must accept the fact that in spite of my best efforts, I have not
progressed in my career.
I have had the exact same job since graduating from college, and I’m complacent and unhappy. I’m scared to move on to a second career because I have wrongly accepted that this is all I know. Insane as it may sound, there is something comforting about the mediocre known then the promise of the brighter unknown. I am now beginning to suffer financially too. Enough is enough.
I must accept the fact that after trying every online dating site, meet up group, singles group, a dating app, vision board, self-help books, Feng shei, blind dates, prayer circle, and consistent “going out”, I have yet to meet the love of my life or have children.
I have given it my best shot! I wish I could travel across Europe to “find myself” or reconnect, but I’m broke. The best I can do is get over it, and make peace with myself. I’m still working on the details, but I am ever so clear over what does not work.
I must accept the fact that my incessant worry and pain has caused stress and illness that has taken a toll on my physical and mental well-being.
I don’t think there is enough therapy in the world that erases the pain of losing my father to cancer. Sex, alcohol, and stress eating aren’t one-stop shop band-aids either. I tried. Working long hours on my job to avoid going home in the evenings doesn’t work either. I tried that too. So, what is? I don’t know yet. However, now that I know what doesn’t work; I can at least move on to try some more reasonable solutions.
photo credit: NFarmer <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/76026991@N00/24651642221″>bottom right | right bottom</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>(license)</a>