So, I kept this blog ‘private’ for six months, mostly because I wasn’t sure I really wanted anyone to see those awful photos of me. And that means, I didn’t do the blog. Or the ‘diet’. Or anything. I spent the winter hibernating, brooding – womb and tomb time.
I’ve lost a few pounds. But not enough. My son is getting married in July, and I really, REALLY would like to look like myself, rather than some bloated version of me.
And that brings me to a question: why is THIS me not ‘me’? The answer, of course, is that my original assumption is incorrect. This IS me. And if I can’t embrace this me, I won’t embrace the skinnier version, either. In fact, I never have. I recently found letters I wrote to my late husband twenty-five years ago. And I was whining about my weight then. Thirty pounds lighter, and I still didn’t accept the ‘me’ in front of me.
But I had an eye-opening experience this past weekend. Some friends recently bought a new video camera, and we visited them so the guys could play (and the girls could talk.) As usual, Miriam and I immersed ourselves in a discussion about our views on portrait art – a conversation we often have, since we’re both portrait artists by profession. But this time, Neil was playing around with his new camera, and taped our conversation. Then he replayed it.
I cried. Who was this passionate, charismatic person? I believed her. I believed ME. Is that really the person everyone else sees? My husband and my friends just grinned and nodded at me.
Huh. Maybe it isn’t about the size of the skin but the spread of the soul.
But I’m still determined to shrink the skin.
Seeking My Best Self 
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