weight loss fairy tale

I don’t have a single dream, fantasy or personal fairy tale that doesn’t begin with, “Once upon a time there was a beautiful, thin girl named Mary.”

Every dream I claim as my own begins and ends with me losing weight and looking different than I do right now.

Granted, right now I’m pregnant. But I’m also significantly overweight. And I hate it. If I’m honest, I hate myself a bit for it.

Last week I went to the MOPS annual conference for a few hours. It was in Kansas City this year, and I joined my friends and colleagues from DaySpring on Friday morning. Alex Kuykendall spoke in the morning session, and she asked us, “What keeps you from believing you are God’s masterpiece?”

She instructed us to write our answers on the piece of paper she’d had placed on each chair, wad it up and toss it in the trash bags being passed up and down the aisles.

I wrote, “Fat.”

Look, I know the Truth. I know I am wonderfully made by the Creator himself. I know He sees me as beautiful, and therefore I am beautiful. I know that and at least part of me believes that, no question.

The other part of me hears the scale groan and the threads tear and the lungs wheeze as I hoof it up a flight of stairs. The other part of me has eyes and sees what the mirror reflects. The other part of me accepts God’s acceptance – but longs to care better for this body He’s given me.

The other part of me dreams of walking into the regular side of the department store, of feeling confident when I walk into a room of strangers, of knowing I can use this body to walk, to run, to play, to work – just the way He intended.

I may have given up on fairy tales in a lot of areas in my life, but this one right here is one I still struggle with every minute of every day. No, I don’t fantasize [anymore] about wearing slinky dresses and showing off toned, dimple and stretch mark free skin. I don’t give that size or that number more value than they deserve. And I though I still hope to someday find knee-high boots that fit over my calves, I don’t believe my worth is determined by my footwear or jeans size or closet full of sleeveless shirts.

But I dream of losing weight. I imagine how good it will feel, and how lovely I’ll look – and how loved I’ll feel. And I admit that a tiny, irrational part of me still believes single digit sizes might lead to my happy ever after.

What fairy tales do you still struggle with?

Please note: I am well aware that it’s possible to find beautiful dresses in plus sizes. And I promise I am not asking for – nor do I need – your reassurance that I’m beautiful the way I am, that God loves me no matter my dress size, that being thin isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, or that I need therapy to get over my issues. I’m simply baring my heart a bit for you – and asking you to be brave enough to do the same.

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{Photo by workshoppe}

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