The Ravages of Time

In the past three years, I've changed. Physically. Like a lot.

I stopped restricting and doing exercise I didn't like years ago. Then I had another kid. And I breast-fed. A long time. I thought once I finished that maybe my, uh, chestral regions would go back to "normal" size, but they didn't. They didn't stay the same size, either. They got bigger! When I see pictures of myself from even just two years ago, the first thing I think is, "My boobs were so small!" So that's one thing.

But my face, too. I think it's a combination of weight set point being higher and my face finally catching up, and, honestly, age. I feel like my face is showing my age more now than it did a couple of years ago. For one, my features used to look like they took up a lot more of my face, and now they don't. It's kind of odd.

So when I see older pictures of me, I know it's me, but it almost looks like looking at a different person.

And, whereas before, I definitely would have pined over how "skinny" I looked in some shots, now I'm frankly alarmed at how much less room I was taking up.

I'm learning to view photos as memories frozen in time and to find the nostalgia in the moments they record, separating my ego from the process as much as possible.

It's definitely a process.

Once, after I'd lost a bunch of weight, we had family Christmas pictures taken. I'd agonized over what to wear, in the end choosing a black boxy sweater that was cute but not form-fitting in the least. When we got the proofs back, I kind of humble-bragged the truth to my ex-husband that I had thought about wearing something more body-conscious but went with something that would draw less attention to my "transformation." Unimpressed, he deadpanned, "No one's going to look at you in these pictures. They're going to look at our beautiful child." I mean, it hurt, but he wasn't wrong.

The biggest thing that I keep coming back to when I experience momentary surprise at how I appear in more candid pictures is to remember, "This is exactly what everyone else sees every dang day." I only see myself in front of the mirror or when having a posed picture taken (unless the front-facing camera accidentally comes on, then look out!!). So the mental image I have of myself is quite controlled. Everyone else sees me sitting, stretching out, double chinning it, etc. and so pictures of me aren't shocking to them... if they're even really looking at me. And they probably aren't.

I don't mind getting older. I don't mind looking older. I don't harbor fantasies that I can still pass as a co-ed. So it's fine.

I have a friend who was invited to a reunion recently, and she told me, "If I were skinny, I'd go. I could show them how fabulous and successful I am." I love her, and she IS fabulous and successful. And if she wanted to go, I wish she'd go.

I don't want her to be captive to presenting a certain body type in order to be pleasing to a critical eye (in this case, her own, but she's projecting on former co-workers), and I certainly refuse to be. If anyone has a problem with this, then I'm going to leave you with the wise words of one Ms. Edna Turnblad: