You know how you can know something is true, but you still have trouble believing it? You know the evidence, all the facts – but still, something in your head keeps you from believing this truth applies to you.
I’m having that problem with my body. It’s been about three weeks since I fell and severely sprained my ankle, and I’m still in the air cast. I’m doing the best I can at the gym despite the discomfort and lack of flexibility. Mostly, I’m spending a lot of time in the pool, and then doing some strength training a few times a week. I’d like to do more, but right now, my ankle can’t handle much of anything – not the recumbent bike, or the elliptical, or the rowing machine. I definitely did a thorough and complete job of tearing up those all-important ligaments in my foot.
My cursed foot. It’s like the monkey’s paw, except it doesn’t grant wishes.
Now, I should be grateful that I can work out in the pool and on the strength equipment, right? And I am, I’m very grateful for everything I can do at the gym. But in my head, there’s a little voice, a voice that whispers “not enough.” As in, I’m not doing enough to stop being fat.
I know, I know, right? How silly that I care about being fat. I write a blog about body positivity! About loving yourself just as you are right now! But still, even though I know that I am more than the size and shape of my body, that being fat doesn’t mean I am lazy or gluttonous or stupid or unlovable, that voice still whispers. Psst! Over here…
If you could just stop being fat, you’d be happier.
If you could just stop being fat, you’d have a handsome, kind, funny husband.
If you could just stop being fat, you’d be more respected and loved.
If you could just stop being fat, you’d be a better person.
I know better, of course. I know that being thin isn’t going to change my life. At most, it will (temporarily) change the size of the clothes hanging in my closet, and will probably make men pay more attention to me. But other than that? Thinness is not going to make me smarter or kinder or happier.
And still, every day that I wear this air cast and wait for my ankle to heal, I am full of the fear of fat. That this physical setback is going to make me fatter, because I can’t push myself as hard as I’m used to. (Even then, I live in a body where when I do push myself to my physical limits, I’m still fat!) And if I get fatter, the harder it will be for me to love myself – and for other people to love me, too (especially that handsome, kind, funny husband).
A friend mentioned the possibility of surgery to me the other day, and I immediately panicked. Surgery that requires being non-weight-bearing for several weeks would require huge changes in my life, as it’s my driving foot that I hurt, and I live – alone – in a three-story house. But the real panic came from the thought of not working out for weeks on end. I can’t do that! I can’t – because I’ll get fatter, and that’s the worst thing that can happen. It doesn’t matter that I know the truth. That whispering voice keeps me from believing the truth applies to me.
It’s bad enough that society and the media scream at me about how terrible it is to be fat. To have a voice inside my head whispering the same thing can sure make it hard to ignore.
Do you have a voice that whispers to you? How do you fight the whispers? How do you stop listening to that mean, lying little voice, and start listening to the voices of the people who love you, to the truths about the body, to all the good in the world?
