The outfit was perfect... and would never have been able to be worn several months ago. Actually, several months ago, she never would have even dreamed of wearing anything like it.The black fine-knit sweater clung closely to her form, its intricately woven black-beaded collar surreptitiously catching the overhead lights, adding flicker and half-hidden sparkle. The floor-length black skirt swayed confidently with each movement, framing and enhancing.
This was good; this was a wonderful state of being. She felt beautiful... no... she felt elegantly gorgeous!
Be honest. How many of us would love to feel that way again (if we ever felt that way before)?!
I know I certainly would. I would give almost anything... preferably many pounds of fat... to feel like that again. To have perfectly fitting clothing. To not have to persistently tug on shirt or skirt to ensure correct positioning. To not have to restrict one's movement so as not to disarray the carefully placed clothing. To not have to think one single stray thought about whether stance and gait enhanced or detracted from actual weight perceptions.
That picture above was taken three years ago on 3 February. It was at my brother's wedding and I had recently returned home from a three-month stay in Mexico. Having dropped a few pounds while there, I was enjoying the delights of being able to wear whatever I wanted and not have to worry about whether or not unsightly bumps were adequately covered.
I was free to move, to dance, to stand, to sit, to bend, and to sway as I saw fit. This may not seem like a great deal to many of you, but for those who live in a constant personal hell of trying to disguise shameful fat, this freedom bestows an incredible sense of elation. No tugging. No pulling. No worries.
This picture jumped out at me as I clicked my way through various folders and files recently moved to my brand new laptop. For a moment, I did not recognize the face that stared back at me. Slowly, and with a degree of shock, I realized the picture of the woman in front of me was actually... me!
Initially, a flood of discouragement slammed me in the gut as I acknowledged I no longer looked ANYTHING like the picture. Fighting for supremacy, my better-days-lie-ahead self put forth the notion, "True. But that is what you're working toward. You WILL make it there... and then some!"
Encouragement is a beautiful thing and for me, as I struggle and pray through a "hump" part of this diet, I see before me what my end goal is. Sure, I have hanging in the bathroom a goal dress. Sure, in my mind's eye, I can imagine the svelte-ness I shall one day be. And yes, I do look in the mirror every day, searching for diminished circumferences upon my frame.
More tangible than all these goals and hopes is the picture I share with you today and this little piece of advice. Never hesitate to encourage each other, for uplifting words provide the wings on which we soar above our difficulties. Don't over think about what the other person might think about or say to you; just act.
Your support of me and your encouraging words have given me the strength to persevere and stick it out one more week. Yes, it is through Christ that I do all this, but I believe that He has given you to me as an encouragement and as a source of accountability. I do not wish to let you down, all you who are cheering me on from afar. At this moment, my carb-hungry brain likens an uplifting comment from a reader to a sip of ice cold Pepsi after a bite of deep-fried Pizza Hut pan pizza (with extra cheese)!
See. You just never know what seemingly-insignificant word(s) of encouragement will do to strengthen a fellow traveler along the way!
...I think I smell a slice of CheeseLovers pizza!
