"You can't handle the truth!"

Another great line, ladies and gentlemen, that works perfectly in this situation.

So the question is: What is the truth?

Here's what I know. I drink too much soda, eat too much fast food, hardly touch vegetables, and haven't done a lick of exercise since I was a teenager. I get backaches (sometimes spreading to the hips and knees) when I've been on my feet "for too long". I put that in quotes, because how long is too long anyway? I'm fairly certain my grandparents spend more time on the move than I do with fewer ill effects. I suck. That's what it all boils down to. I have a problem and I haven't done anything to address it.

Until now.

I'm about to turn 33 and I've been fat since the birth of my kid. That was 7 years ago, so there's no passing it off as "baby weight". In the beginning, it was easy to ignore it. I naively assumed my body would lose the weight naturally. I mean, hey, I didn't exactly have to try to gain it during the pregnancy! Plus I was on bedrest the last month (due to borderline pre-eclampsia) and had a difficult induced delivery. I waddled into the delivery ward at 205lbs and jiggled out at 204lbs. How is that possible when you just squeezed out a 7lbs 11oz. baby?!? I looked bloated and swollen for months afterwards and it was easy to blame the medical difficulties. Eight months later, the husband walked out (which was actually a blessing) and I filed for divorce. It felt almost easy to do, but the circumstances of my life still took their toll.

Waking up at the age of 26 to realize that you are fat (over 200 when you used to be 130), a single parent, hate your job, and have very few friends (most disappeared after the marriage) hardly inspires a girl to think positively about her body. Yeah, everyone has their own story of self-pity, but here's how this one progresses: As soon as the kid was old enough for pre-school, I quit my soul-sucking job and went back to school. I got a second bachelor's degree and applied to graduate school. That took me 1,000 miles away from the drama of the ex and started a new chapter in my life. I'm now creeping up on graduation (one year left in my program) and it is time to work on the outer me.

Thankfully, I've recently discovered that not every man vomits at the sight of a larger woman. I've got some good friends and have started to date once in a while. BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) is still a hard label to accept. It is subjective to begin with and always feels (to me) like a lie - like trying to put a positive spin on an ugly truth. I certainly don't want people to get the idea that I think "big" can't be beautiful. It can. But part of being beautiful is feeling beautiful. And I don't feel happy about my physical self. It isn't because I'm not a size 6 (I've NEVER been a size 6); it is because I won't go swimming with my kid due to the horrors of bathing suits. It is because I get winded climbing stairs. It is because I couldn't do the bungee trampoline thing at the funpark because I was over the safety weight limit. My kid asked why I wouldn't do it with him because he was scared. I lied and said my lunch wasn't settling right with me. I never lie to my kid.

So, yeah, the truth is I am a big woman and I do not feel beautiful. It is time to change that.

P.S. The pic above is by British artist Jenny Saville whose work deals with female body and often utilizes self-portraits.