overwhelmingly in spite of (myself)

“I am a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I am getting along. I am aging and eaten and have done my share of eating too. I am not washed and beautiful, in control of a shining world in which everything fits, but instead am wondering awed about on a splintered wreck I've come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe a delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions, and whose beauty bats and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them...”--A. Dillard

In my last post, I referred to my self as a fat woman. I never do that. I leave that moniker to those women who have embraced their size and make a point of telling anyone who asks that they have no shame, they are fat and proud. I do not share their optimism or their apparent self love. I don't see fat as a badge I should wear with a smile. But I think, in some ways, that's a huge part of why I'm so fucked up around weight and food.

Sure, there is the genetic burden, and there's the horrible mixed messages I received growing up--"you're wonderful (even though you could stand to lose some weight)"--and there's the abusive past that created a psychic split in me which I still do battle with in intimate situations (it can be a real buzzkill sexually when one is forced to repeat the mantra 'be present' over and over again while in the throes of lovemaking)...but this. This embracing of the WHOLE self, not just the mind, but the body...loving myself IN THIS MOMENT, not some future image that I may never attain, convinced as I am that thin = perfect contentedness...perhaps this acceptance of myself as I am now will allow me to chart a clear(er) course for what I wish to be.

I have been given a key. And dammit all to hell, I am opening this door.