{Just Me}

I like to think of myself as someone who has high self esteem.  For most of my life, I have been that person.  I was never one of the skinny girls.  I was never able to fit into a single digit pant.  And that was ok.  Because I was perfect.

I went through a period of time in my adult life where I did not feel this way.  I was not happy with myself.  My self esteem was not where it should be.  I wish I knew then.  Well, I guess I did know but I wish I had felt it then. 

I still struggle today.  I weigh the most I have ever.  That's some scary shit.  And the weight is not coming off easily even though I am trying.  Trying more than I ever have before.  Up until a few weeks ago I really cared.  My self esteem is still much higher than it was during my low time.  I know I'm beautiful.  I know I'm sexy.  But there were still those thoughts creeping in about not being good enough.  Not being skinny enough.

I was dieting before I got sick at the beginning of the month.  I was eating healthy and working out and I had lost eight pounds.  It took almost four months to lose those eight pounds.  And I know what you're gonna say the slower it comes off, the better.  Just shut up, ok?  I was frustrated before getting sick.  I was discouraged.  I wanted my vagina cowl to go away.

What's a vagina cowl you ask?  You know that loose skin you get on your lower belly after having ten million children?  You know how it kind of hangs and looks like a cowl neck shirt.  Yeah that.  You're welcome for that.  And that shit, trademarked.  Don't you dare steal it. 

Today I'm in a better place.  I think.  Today I don't care.  I've gained four of those eight pounds back since leaving the hospital and eating everything in sight.  And I just don't care.  My vagina cowl was getting smaller and now it's back.  You know what, I kind of missed it.  It holds my phone when I'm sitting in the car and keeps my hands warm sometimes.  It's useful. 

Seriously though, something happened to me.  I was very very sick.  It was as close to a death scare as I ever want to get again.  I think a part of me really was afraid of dying while I was in that ER.  It was the closest I'd ever come to feeling that way.  I got better and then I came home.  I was weak at first but I'm getting stronger every day.

And now?  Now those extra pounds don't seem to matter.  The grey hair that I desperately need to dye so badly that two people have mentioned it to me?  Doesn't seem to matter.  I just don't care.  What I care about is being here for my family.  If that means that I have a little grey hair and a VC {vagina cowl, you know} then so be it.  I just can't worry about that right now. 

For now I'm going to the gym.  But not to lose weight.  To get strong.  To build back some strength and to fight against whatever it was that ravaged my body and made me lose myself for a bit.  I'm gonna kick this mystery virus right in the VC.  It may have scared the pants off of me and made me question my future but it also made me appreciate my present and helped me gain back a little bit of that self esteem.  I was strong enough to fight back.  And that's something to be proud of.

So now I leave you with this pic of me that before would not have been good enough. My bangs look awful and the angle is all wrong making me look like I'm naked and floating in a sea of hair. But today, it's beautiful. Today it's me. Lisa's wife and Bailey, Chloe, Ian and Isobel's Mommy. What more could I ask for?