Monday, May 20, 2013

29

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It's official.


1. Life. 2. Loss. 3. Innocence. 4. Trouble. 5. Family. 6. Friendship. 7. Fear. 8. Growing. 
9. Learning. 10. Wishes. 11. Stolen. 12. Bullied. 13. Breaking. 14. Drama. 15. Love. 
16. Faith. 17. Change. 18. Confused. 19. Elated. 20. Happy. 21. Lost. 22. Struggling. 
23. Determined. 24. Broken. 25. Emerging. 26. Independence. 27. Hopes. 28. Joy. 

29. Eager.

Why I No Longer Fear My 29th Birthday

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Tomorrow I turn 29.

Then begins the countdown to 30

As I've said recently, 30 doesn't bother me, but 29 was making me anxious. And then we had dinner with some friends of ours. Friends we've had since High School. Every few months we get together for dinner, to catch up with one another, and naturally to reminisce about the past.

Unlike many of my former school mates, I've always looked back on High School as this amazing time in my life when I felt free. When the drama of romance was the biggest problem in my life. When it was normal to learn about yourself, to explore who you are and who you want to be as a person.

And then I made choices, made changes, and tried to force myself into a box. I thought I didn't have a choice. And I struggled. I succeeded at covering up my imperfections for a number of years, but then I would fail and I would struggle to find worth in myself because of that failure. Good times would come again and suddenly I had value once more. But I had to fight for it. Fight for a value and worth I thought I needed, never seeing the true amazement of the person waiting just under the surface. I tried so hard to be perfect for so many years.

Remembering High School with my friends was an eye opening experience. We shared memories and told similar stories from different perspective and learned quite a lot. I learned that despite struggling to be a "perfect Mormon girl", when I left High School at the beginning of my Junior year in order to graduate early, there was a small rumor circulating that Matt had gotten me pregnant. It clearly didn't go far and was obviously false.

I laughed because had I known back then (especially considering how hard I was fighting to create a good girl reputation for myself), I would have drowned in the sorrows of misery and self pity, grieving for the reputation that I'd lost among people I wouldn't see again until our ten years High School reunion. I laughed because it doesn't matter. Because I'm no longer that girl who struggles to hide herself and fit into a box. I'm becoming that girl who is fighting to show her true self, and spray painting the box bright pink.

I feared 29 because I felt like I'd wasted my twenties. Like I'd spent so much time and effort trying to be something and someone I wasn't. Like I'd spent most of my years sitting on the couch, wasting time watching television with my husband and getting fat. But today I think back on my twenties and I say, "Look how far you've come!" 

Just like High School, I spent my twenties trying to learn about myself, explore who I was and who I wanted to be as a person. And I feel like I've succeeded. I did spend a lot of these years on our old denim couch, watching television. Just sitting with my husband, cuddled on the couch, laughing and crying at a simple television screen. But that's not a bad thing. And I did get fat. But fat's not a bad thing. And I'm learning to see it clearly.

I don't fear 29 anymore. Because it's a new start. I'm coming in close to the end of a chapter in my life, and this is the last leg of this part of the race. 30 will come next year and I've gotten a new rush of energy and a new spark to keep going. Just one more mile to a new step in life.

I hope my 29th year brings as many memories, as many triumphs, as many friends and loved ones and experiences. Because my 28th year was pretty damn remarkable.


Sunday, May 19, 2013

Love, Yourself *May*

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For those just tuning in, for the last three years I have been writing letters to myself that automatically post on my blog each month throughout the year. It's my way of keeping up with progress and showing myself the difference an entire year can really make. Instead of obsessing on the little things, I'm looking at the big picture. 

---

Dear Jia,   

It's that time of the month again, the time for self review.

Past Years:
Past Problems:
  • Perspective.
  • Birthday blues.
  • Losing focus.
Past Achievements:
  • Taking charge of health.
Past Weight:
  • 2010 - 255 lbs
  • 2011 - 234 lbs
  • 2012 - 242 lbs
Past Pics:
2010                     -                     2011                     -                     2012


 

Note to Self: It's one more year and we're 30. It's scary, but we're totally going to deal with this. So start now. Why is 30 scary? Dig down deep and address your fears. You were never scared of turning 30 until you turned 28. Also, keep working on your 30 Before 30 list. Don't think of the time going too fast, because you of all people know all the amazing things that can happen in one year.


Love,

Yourself

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Bloggers Who Changed Everything: The Militant Baker

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Thanks to fellow bloggers who changed everything, I felt well on my way to pushing through my self esteem issues and working on loving myself and having body and size acceptance. But I needed one more thing.

I needed an anthem.

Something that resonated so well within me that I could lean on it for strength and courage when faced with the onslaught of societies expectations and ignorance. I am not a confrontational person, and even when I have strong beliefs and convictions, I buckle under pressure as a means to just keep the peace. But I've been doing that my whole life. Not just keeping the peace, but keeping quiet about my fat is no one's business but my own. About how my body is mine and I should love it, not want to constantly change it. About how my health issues have nothing to do with my weight, and I'd rather focus on an overall health than be skinny and still have mental illness and fibromyalgia.

I needed to know there was someone else out there like me. But stronger.

I needed a fat girl blogger version of P!nk. Someone whose words repeated in my head under times of stress and self loathing. Words that told me I was perfectly imperfect and I was one of many in an army of girls who refused to be pushed back.

And I found her in The Militant Baker.


A foul mouthed, tattooing, hair dying, feminist power house who thinks everyone is beautiful.

A long, lost twin sister from an alternate universe.

I found Jes thanks to a good Samaritan I follow on Pinterest who happened to pin her amazing blog post, Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls . . . So I Will. And I hope she doesn't mind me quoting her (cause y'all need to go and read the whole article), but I made it to the end of the post, nodding my head the whole way when I landed on the last paragraph:
You are fucking beautiful. I'm saying this with a straight face and seriously meaningful look where I maintain eye contact for an uncomfortable amount of time. I know you don't feel like you fit into the category of gorgeous that our world creates. I know that its hard. I know that its a daily battle. But fuck their fascist beauty standards. The second you stop looking for a skinny model in your mirror and start looking at YOU... is the second you will start to appreciate what you are. Stop looking for flaws. Stop looking for differences. You are perfect. You are more than enough. You are the best thing that has ever happened to you. And you are fucking beautiful.
Anyone else here those words playing to music? Cause I sure as hell did.

Like with most bloggers I develop sudden love for, I devoured her archive in a full day. Not only does Jes blog about body acceptance and self love, but she actively proves that fat girls can do anything! She feeds off the haters. And much like my own issues with having to wear so many different shoes, Jes herself has been put into many boxes. But just as I decided to go barefoot, Jes has redefined her boxes and made them her own.

Reading The Militant Baker was like looking at pieces of my life being lived by someone who was not afraid of confrontation. It's inspiring. It's motivating. 

And I hope one day soon to be my own, pink version, of her.
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