Fashionista? Not so much.

As we piled in the car headed to Rand's 1st birthday, Austin looked at me with shocked eyes and asked why I was dressed so "fancy." This comes not minutes after Addison asked me the same thing in the bathroom. Said outfit:

This inquisition internally bothered me, but I couldn't figure out why.  

The next evening, Sunday, I wasn't feeling so great, and low and behold by midnight the stomach bug had hit me hard. Thankfully, it was a short-lived virus, and I only tell you this so you'll understand why I didn't see what my daughter wore to her field trip on Monday until after she was home.  

Addison walked in my bedroom Monday afternoon looking like the latest episode of "What Not to Wear: Kid's Edition." Black t-shirt. Black athletic shorts. Hair messy and unkempt. It suddenly dawned on me that this outfit became the norm for my Addison. She was Miss Sloppy, and she learned from the best.

Lately, I have let myself go. I've never been accused of being a fashion genius, but it wasn't unheard of for me to get a compliment from time to time on my latest outfit. Just a year ago, high school students were asking where I shopped. My new Grand Saline friends probably think I only own clothes with the labels Nike, Adidas, and Under Armour. While that actually sounds pretty awesome to me, it is, in fact, untrue. Sunday's adventure forced me to be truthful with myself. Simply put, I'm uncomfortable in my normal clothes right now. I'm at my top weight and I hate my body.  

I deal with the same body issues most women deal with. Yes, I know I'm smaller than some, but that doesn't mean I'm happy with where I am. I know where I used to be, and I know with just a little effort and willpower I could be there again. But, I'm always SO DANG TIRED, another universal conflict we share as women. Frankly, I'm writing this blog because I need to vent and it seems like I have no one to talk to about this. When it comes up in conversation with other girls, they usually get the same look on their face, the one that says, "Shut up, you skinny witch.  I would kill to be your size." But I feel the same way about my body as you do about yours. It sucks.  

Bottom line: I need to take better care of myself, both inside and out. (There may not be enough space on Blogger to tackle the inside.) I need this not only for myself but also for my daughter. It's important for her to grow up with a positive body image, and she's going to look to me first for that acceptance and accountability. I know I'll never be 118 lbs again, and that's okay. But I want to feel better, and I want to look at my body and know that I am doing the best I can with what the good Lord gave me.

 

I'm a work-in-progress, so don't expect a drastic change. But I might fix my hair tomorrow.  Maybe.