Shit. My pants are too tight.

What happens when the balanced healthy living coach discovers her pants are too tight.     


 Total vulnerability post alert.

Weighing a certain amount has nothing to do with my happiness, peace or ideal vision. It hasn’t for a long time. I released that hell a few years back. Coming from a place of self-flagellation and a damned near sadistic relationship with the scale, for the sake of my sanity and physical well being I let it go and found another way.

This “other way” has been the absolute foundational corner stone of a level of spiritual and emotional growth I never knew existed. I went from being the constantly needy and broken to the empowered, forgiving and loving. It has been a messy, beautiful ride. As Brene Brown puts it, I’m in the arena.

My success has not been measured by how much I weigh or how much I’ve lost. My success is about something so much bigger, more vast. It’s about a profound love and respect for myself whatever I weigh, a love that drives my desire to eat healthily, fuel my body with healthy foods and move my body in ways that make me feel amazing. In terms of my weight, diet, and exercise, that’s it. That’s all there is and it is more than enough.

As I began to put this journey into words you would often hear me say that my success has been in maintaining my weight and I have done so for several years after a long, hard and dysfunctional journey of what Geneen Roth calls, “cycles of restricting and permitting” (Women, Food, and God).

Then there was this.

So what happens when that’s no longer true? What happens when the body image/emotional eating/sometimes nutrition health coach discovers she has packed on a considerable amount of weight and needs bigger pants? Well, truth bomb, just like you, she spends some time very sad and disappointed. I felt it was worth sharing what that looks like for me at this point in time.

I’m not stupid  (she rolls her eyes) and no longer live in denial so I was well aware body changes had occurred. You can feel it in your clothes, see the muffin top(s) in the mirror.  I don’t get on the scale anymore. I haven’t in years. My history with that thing is engraved deep in my brain and it can take a perfectly empowered woman who loves herself and sees a gorgeous soul in the mirror and bring her to her knees in seconds flat. Why on earth would I torture myself that way? Yeah.. no, I do love myself too much for that. By the same token, if I do need to see the results and it has that effect I can recover very quickly. That’s what re-wiring the brain is all about but honestly, why take the hard way ’round when there is no need to.

I have been contending with almost a year now of a succession of sickness and body injuries that made my fitness life drop to a fraction of what it is has been. Once again, like a warrior, I accept what is and find ways to do the best I can. What I didn’t really know was just how much this temporary (I hope) change in lifestyle has impacted my body. Summer capris must stretch and stay stretched. That’s all I’ve got to say.

Truth bomb.

So now what? Well, let’s start with the f*&Ckn truth.

I. Hate. It.

I feel….. defeated. Yes, that’s it, like someone standing on the steps of city hall trying to fight the good fight who realizes they haven’t made a difference at all, nor are they going to. The vision I have is my back side as I walk away from city hall, head down, picket sign dragging on the sidewalk.

I feel uncomfortable and yes, hate the way I look. This cultural programming runs really deep. Really friggin deep. Funny thing, I didn’t really hate the way I looked until I tried pants on that aren’t fitting well at all. Here’s the trickster part of the brain, and the ego, I don’t weigh any more after I tried the pants on than moments before I did,  only after I hate the way I look. Presto chango, just like that.  My body feels awful now too. Pants that are too small have the same damn effect on my psyche as the number on the scale. Shit.

The sucky part is that it’s cold now and I have to wear pants so I have to torture myself for a bit until I can get something comfortable that fits. For god sakes women! Don’t torture yourself in your clothes! Whatever your size, love yourself clothes that fit! Don’t swim in them and don’t walk around feeling like you’re going to bust out of them. Right now, I feel like I am friggin going to bust.

Real and raw. It’s going to take more than one blog post.

This blog is getting long so I’m going to make it a two parter. Hell, I might even write about the journey for weeks on end! The blessing is that yes, I feel the transformation of what lays behind me and I feel the presence of God loving me. I am connected to love and for the most part, I am the observer watching from the outside. I can feel the curiousity of myself that takes place of the once cruelly judgemental and defeated internal voice.

I’m already clued in on some important things. There are many changes on the horizon. I’ve felt them coming for some time. I am not at all sure what they are. Trusting in myself comes almost naturally now and I have faith to accept what is. So whatever is next, I already know it is part of something so much bigger.


Keeping it real.

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