I was journaling this morning about disappointment in the scale and in myself. Then an idea came:
What if I dropped into this body, as it is today, from outer space and no time? No expectation, control, or history of disappointment or pain in hearing ‘tub of lard’ as a teen?
I’d look around it, inventory all the working parts, look under the hood and kick the tires and determine that ‘she’s got a few good years in her yet’. (I’m 67.) Relatively healthy. No major diseases and all fingers and toes and senses accounted for.
I took a sip of gratitude from the well of real, not should.
Then, I saw my sense of entitlement.
I had never seen or owned this before. I saw how all of my life I had hated what my body was and wasn’t. I was busy drinking Diet Rite Cola, then Tab, then diet Coke and binging on pizza in the dark. All the while mad and confused because I was big, not small. Somewhere believing that the ‘small’ women were the good women. The women of value.
In response to this old and familiar reflection I heard that new word coming out of this broken record song: entitlement.
And a real question:
Where did I get the idea that I was entitled to eat without restraint AND be slimmer than the average?
After the horror and embarrassment of seeing (and feeling) this honesty come forward, a measure of self compassion sneaked in as well. Then, I returned to reading from my meditation books and ultimately landing
Today I am agreeing to love my body-self as I am right now—as I have been dropped into this good healthy miracle of flesh and thinking, spirit and senses without any of my doing or merit.
This morning I am making a decision to support myself with good choices. This includes connecting here, and wishing all of us well too.
One day at a time.