Doing it for yourself

If you haven't already, go and read Anonymous's comment from yesterday's post. Otherwise, this post won't make a ton of sense.

I teach a 5th semester French class. I have been teaching this class for about 2 1/2 years, but this is the first semester that I am using a textbook that is really well done. Each chapter topic relates to societal controversies. The chapter which we are now covering is about equality between the sexes. On Wednesday, we discussed jokes which point up--or play on--stereotypes of women and of men. One, for example, said something like, "If a man opens the car door for his woman (bad translation of French, sorry), either the car is new or the woman is new." This comment/joke got the class riled up, which I thought was great. One student said, "If we put on make up, dress up, put on heels and do our hair for you (men), you should at least open our car door." The class laughed, and I tried to contain myself (and did a pretty good job, I must say). When they settled down, I said, "Yes, but, really, we women should do that stuff anyway...for ourselves." Obviously, we do what makes sense for us: if you don't LIKE wearing heels, then don't. If you do, great. Do it, but do it because you WANT to, not because you think you have to. I explained this stuff to my students, and I could tell they appreciated what I had to say, but I think it was new information to many of them.

What's the point of this story? The point is that I was the one who had to decide that I was important enough to myself to lose weight. My husband--God love him--thought I looked great the way I was. At one point, before I started WW, he said, "Are you sure you haven't lost weight." What a doll! When I came home from my first meeting and told him that I weighed 165 pounds, his eyes bugged out. He couldn't believe it. I didn't join WW because my husband wanted me to. I joined because I decided it was time: It was time to start caring again about myself, my physical health, my mental health and my emotional health. I mean, I felt like crap. And not just physically. I felt really down, really sad and really annoyed that I had let myself go. Every time I walked into our closet to find something to wear, I got depressed. Nothing fit! NOTHING! If I had been happy at 165 pounds, I probably would have just stayed there. But I wasn't. Something needed to be done, and I was the only one who could do it!

So, here we are. This journey has been an educational one, for sure. It has forced me to answer some pretty tough questions about myself, but I'm enjoying the process of introspection and reflection. It's not easy, but at least I know I can do it. And, I'm very close to fitting in to my little red dress**.

**The dress fits: it zips up and *could* be worn in public. It is still a bit snug around the abdomen area, so I'm waiting for 4 more pounds before giving it a whirl in the outside world!