A recollection on words that cling.

For every action there is an equal & opposite reaction.

(NEWTON'S THIRD LAW OF MOTION)

When I learned fat.

Typical church girl, I played babysitter for the pre-driver's license years of my life. I remember nothing of it, accept two scenarios.

1. When the Bob the Builder toy began to talk when nobody was playing with it, let alone in the same room.

Reaction:
Dolls give me the heeby geebys.
Can't even watch scary movies about them.
Which is probably a good thing.

2. When I walked into the mother in her bra & underwear with shame flooding her eyes.

This is not quite as simple as to give you a reaction & call it quits. This requires more.
Because I always just slid in the doorway, knowing they would be finishing any last minute preparation with the boy & the girl before handing over the authority. I was a quiet, awkward little girl, unsure whether to interrupt there final rounds or just to open the door. But the door was always unlocked for me, & I am a girl of habit. Why would I think to do things any differently? So in I walked, a little more led in my foot, making my presence known.

But they were all upstairs. I couldn't see them but I could hear them. I may have choked out a little hello, but if I had, the wind took it to a secret place. No one responded.

The memory is a film, as I watch myself hesitate to the bottom of the stairs, cautiously flowing with the voices up to find their skin. As my eyes broke level with the stairs, my gaze fell on her in the adjacent bathroom. She found my eyes, as well, leaving her breathless & embarrassed.

I down-played the encounter, thinking nothing of it. She was family, & after all, I have some elements myself. I took the boy & girl back down the stairs, but all four voices came with me. Listening as hushed whispers of panic melted above my head, the old house kept no secrets, walls only barriers for the eyes.

I heard the father.
The oh stop.
The she didn't see anything.
The you are not.

In combat with the
embarrassed 90 pounds of
I'm fat
& she saw me
mother.

Reaction: I thought just breaking 100 pounds was skinny. I'm embarrassed. I'm fat.

Because it's all a big game of tag.

Action runs & tags reaction.

Reaction takes the contagious & runs with it. 

Dear [future] mothers & [future] me.

Is fat really the worst thing a human being can be?

Is fat really worse than vindictive, jealous, shallow, vain, boring, or cruel?

Not to me.

(J.K. ROWLING)

Please don't fall into the trap. Baby fat will come. That happens when you carry nine pounds of life that is not yours. You give them life, & they give you a more abundant you. So there's a little more you than there used to be & the scales tipping with age. Will you still call yourself lovely?

Before our minds get the best of us, what is not being asked of you? Let yourself go. No, sweet sister. This isn't a call to throw out the heels, lipstick, & attempts toward a healthy life. & this is in no way any attempt to make the mothers who have been there & done that feel guilty. I am simply asking you to declare yourself lovely in God's sight even when your eyes aren't level with his.

& I know what I did. I used the word 'simple' when simple doesn't correspond with the heart of the matter. This is a different level than flesh. This is a devilish mind game. This is complex & impossible without God. But thankfully, we will never have to know the impossible, as God dresses us up, placing a crown on our heads. He calls us his children & his beloved & never once throws hefty words around at us, cheapening the work of his hands.

So when you think about the mother you will be & the image you will present to your daughter of her value & worth, remember that her self worth is deeper than what you tell her she is, that it's also what she hears you say you are.

What do you remember your mother saying about herself?

This is pins & needles for me. Because I love my mom & I almost find myself wanting to jump to her defense, spewing how she didn't mean it & she knew not what she was doing.

& she didn't. & she is still the most incredible, strong, inspiration of a woman I will ever meet. I adore my mother.

But I don't recall anything she's ever said about herself in a positive manner. I have never heard my mother refer to herself as lovely, beautiful, kind, gentle, peaceful, sweet, nor any of the others. I only recall growing up watching a mother, who was in turn watching the scale neglect to tell her she was beautiful. Her mouth chased the numbers, harassing her stomach with fat on more than one occasion.

I heard her & collected the words for the me who hit high school & watched the bones disappear behind the flesh. & if you have read any of my posts you know the battle never left. I daily face a waged war & daily have to ask God to give me his eyes.

So remember your self worth in remembering her self worth. Remember to call yourself lovely. & remember the scale will neglect to tell you the most important details.

I've got two daughters who have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world,

& it worries me, because I don't want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated

clones; I'd rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original,

funny - a thousand things, before 'thin'. & frankly I would rather they didn't give a gust of

stinking Chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier

knees than they do. Let my girls be the Hermiones, rather than the Pansy Parkinsons.

Let them never be Stupid Girls.

(J.K. ROWLING)

I also concluded I was not cut out for babysitting.