Hallefreakinglujah! (P2, D31)

I know Kristoise keeps telling me not to pay attention on a daily basis because of my scale's +/-2 lb margin of error, but I am still bummed when I feel like there's a long plateau and REALLY FUCKING EXCITED when I feel like the scale is moving again!! Sorry, K, although I have the natural skepticism of a scientist in some ways, I just do not have a scientific brain.

Day	Date	Weight	Daily Change	Total Loss
Day 29	11/29/2010	203.2	-0.4	-26.4
Day 30	11/30/2010	203.2	0.0	-26.4
Day 31	12/1/2010	201.4	-1.8	-28.2

Something strange happened to me today. I was up early, alone (that in itself is strange, but not what I'm talking about), weighed myself naked as usual, and then sat on the edge of my bed to think about whether to wake the kids up or let them sleep (it was a loooong night). I caught a glimpse of my naked body in the mirror, and I thought I looked beautiful. The curve of my back, the way my thigh rested on our duvet . . . I was beautiful. I instantly started in with the "but your breasts are too saggy and you still have back fat and blah blah blah" and I silenced myself and made myself shut the fuck up and just spend 30 seconds experiencing my body as beautiful.

I could get used to this.

Today is my son's third birthday. Three years ago today, December 1st at 1 a.m., he was born at home into a huge bathtub of warm water, and he floated out into the water, still connected to the body that nourished him by the umbilical cord. The labor was intense and painful (as most are) but healing. My body did that. My body grew that baby up from a tiny grain of sand into a fully-baked baby. My body, through blood, sweat, and agony, pushed that baby out and nourished him with milk that I made. This is not to say that women who have not birthed children naturally or at all cannot have strong, powerful, amazing bodies, but this is a big source of pride for me in my own body, which can use all the kudos it can get.

I woke up with a start this morning right around his birth time, and I remembered the agony of crowning and the noise I made to help my body endure it. I remembered the midwife saying that the primal scream was putting the world (or God, the angels, the spirits, the ancestors, whatever you believe in) on notice: "Another life is here. Pay attention."

For all the verbal/mental abuse I give this poor body of mine, it has done some amazing things at a range of weights. The two babies for starters. It has hiked the Eagle Creek trail in the Columbia River Gorge. It has trekked all over Europe. It has trained for a triathlon. It has done a few 5(k)s. It has kept me more or less healthy for almost 35 years. And all I do is abuse it with derision, insults, shitty food, and too much sugar.

So maybe I owe it a little better on all fronts. I owe it more than 30 seconds a year of thinking it is beautiful, and I owe it more than 40 days a year of healthy, organic, nutritious foods. Long term, I owe it more than 500 calories a day, but that's another issue!

I've recently learned about an artist named Susan Singer, who paints female nudes of all ages and shapes. Spend some time on her website and blog. She makes fat, wrinkly, old, stretch-marky, gaunt bodies all look beautiful. I would never have the ovaries to actually pose for her if my face were going to show. Or, rather, not never, but not any time soon. But I like the idea of celebrating women's naked bodies.

Another site I like is The Shape of a Mother, which shows bodies in various stages of pregnancy and postpartum. I would not say that the written content is as uplifting, because it seems to be mostly people berating their own bodies. But the photos are so normalizing. I can look at someone else my size and see their beauty even when I can't see my own. A similar website is the Normal Breast Gallery, with hundreds of photos of real women's nonsexualized breasts.

So that's what I'm thinking about today: beauty. I wish it were easier to embrace and accept on a gaining day than on a big loss day, but it is what it is.