New Year, New You...No Thanks

I read a book to my daughter yesterday that disturbed me greatly. It was one of those "I can read it all by myself" Cat in the Hat labelled books (although, thank goodness, it wasn't written by Dr. Seuss) and she had picked it out at the library all by herself.

I should have known by the title.
Oh well.
Hopefully her childhood an emotional well-being isn't too terribly scarred (and we can all be grateful for the fact that she doesn't actually listen for more than two minutes when I read her books). Although perhaps it is not a good sign that I just bribed her with two chocolate kisses for the rights to borrow said book long enough to write this post.

This is how it went down yesterday.
"I Want to Be Somebody New!" by Robert Lopshire.

"Once I wanted to be in the zoo. 
And that was the day I first met you.
You said that the zoo was not for me.
The circus, you said, was where I should be.

At about this point, I realized once again that I read way too much into simple children's literature (see my controversial facebook post about Curious George that took place about a month ago). But already, two pages in, I was seeing literal evidence of a social media phenomenon that has taken over my facebook timeline and instagram feeds: #newyearnewyou and proclamations that if we all just lose 20 pounds we will feel better about ourselves.

And so the circus is where I went. 
I did my tricks with spots on a tent.
I put my spots way up in the air. 
I put my spots just everywhere!

Do you see where my mind went with this? If spots are our talents and perhaps our time, I started to view myself and others putting our focus on outward beauty, something that the faceless "society" has told us we must be and do: a stay-at-home mom must have a side business (most likely some pyramid scheme); a woman must have a passion that every spare moment is dedicated to (and it cannot be family or religion, that's just wrong); if you didn't sign up for a 5k, half-marathon, triathlon (or heck, a gym membership) this year, what the (bleep) is wrong with you?

My tricks with spots were lots of  fun. 
But no more spot tricks!
I am done!
Now I want to be somebody new.
So here's a  new trick I'll show to you!
   Ready! Get set now.
  One, two, three...
Now look and tell me what you see.

This just in...all of those things, if they are something that you feel compelled to do by some outside force and not a real, inner desire, will cease be fun and at some point they will not be enough. You will have to go further, work harder, and spend more time, all for the sake of becoming someone new.

When will just being you be enough?
Surely, I thought, that was where this book was going. The character had to find out he was okay being just the creature he was, right?
And, it did, eventually, but this is what I had to wade through to get there...

But being that big cannot be fun. 
Say! You must weigh at least a ton!
...You're very big.
You're very fat.
We do not care for you like that.

...But  being that tall can't be any fun.
You're taller now than everyone!
Your head is now so high in the air,
it's hard to see your face up there.
...We do not like to see you tall.
We do not like you tall at all!

...You are as small as small can be.

Well, what do you think? 
I'm asking you.
Do I look good this way to you?

We did not like you fat or tall.
And now you know what's wrong with small!

Okay! Okay! Okay, you two.
I'll make myself be someone new.
Ready? Get set now,
One, two three...

Now look and tell me what you see!

Oh no you don't! 
You stop right there!
We like you and we really care. (Insert sarcastic snort here from me)

We liked you best, a whole whole lot,
when you were just our old friend Spot.

Say! You are right!
As right can be!
And it does feel best to be just me!

FINALLY, I say. FINALLY.

Why does this get to me so much, you wonder? Surely this is no big deal. And why does this book immediately remind me of body image?

Well, perhaps it is this January Resolution time of year. Perhaps it is the post-Holiday treat guilt trip you find on billboards and commercials and junk mail and every outside source that tells you there is no other way to be a "new you" without losing ten to twenty pounds.

Here's the thing. I did that.
Not--and let me make this very clear--not on purpose.

Almost five months ago, I gave birth to a nine-pound baby. I now weigh 55 pounds less than I did the night before I had him. That's more than just getting rid of the pregnancy weight in celebrity speed. I now weigh 30 pounds less than my pre-pregnancy weight, all thanks to a medication that keeps me alive.

And, you can hate me if you want for saying this, I didn't put one ounce of effort into doing that. I ate every darn cookie and carbohydrate and French fry I wanted (I'd spent the previous eight months on an extremely strict diet). And, unless you count running up and down stairs fetching clean diapers and burp rags and running after a two-year-old all day, I did nothing in the form of dedicated exercise. No marathon training or yoga routine here.

So it might make sense to you why every time someone compliments me on my weight loss, I feel a bit like quoting Taylor Swift: "Fakers gonna fake fake fake."

I have extremely conflicted emotions about all of this (catching on to that now, are you?). While I appreciate that people care about me to notice, there is some part of me that hurts with each compliment.

"You are looking so good these days!"
Did I not look good before I lost thirty pounds?

"You get more beautiful each time I see you!"
Was I not a beautiful person before I lost thirty pounds?

"You are so skinny!"
Are you saying I was fat at what I thought was my ideal weight (twenty pounds ago)?

Actual quotes from actual people. Actual thoughts from actual me.
Please do not be offended if you have said something like the above quotes to me. I am truly not offended, and it is truly the sweetest and most cherished people in my life that have said these things. I just feel that it is important for me to set the record straight.

It might seem crazy to you, but I don't feel like a new person (isn't that what all the ads promise? New year, new goal, new weight, new numbers, new person?). Aside from the weirdness of putting on size six skinny jeans, I still feel like the same me. When I look in the mirror, I see the same person. In fact, I don't really notice a difference around my middle (where the most weight has disappeared), but rather on my feet and ankles and wrists and fingers. Sometimes (gasp!) I even miss the weight I was before--I liked those clothes, and I loved being able to wear my wedding ring 24/7 without worrying about it falling off my finger.

I know, people change. We become new people daily (haven't I written about that before?). But at the heart of it all, there is a core to me that will always be the pure essence of Rinda. It is what lets you recognize me through the years and trials and education and experiences and a few extra helpings of cheese and ice cream.

I was very blessed to be raised by a family that didn't base their love for me off of the way I looked. I always knew my parents found me beautiful, and my siblings appreciated me for me (even when we teasingly called each other "40 Fat" and "Chubalub," weight did not define our love). Those traits have blessed me well in my marriage (did you know that my husband lost 85 pounds on his mission and I loved him long before he became a triathlon athlete?)

While sometimes I did feel out of place growing up as a tall, "solid, big-boned" girl, those thoughts and feelings always came from outside sources, never my Heavenly Father or my family. I learned over a decade ago that my beauty was not dependent on how I looked on the outside. I learned that if I worked hard to make my inside beautiful, the outside beauty would come.

That is what I hope people see when they see me.
Not my weight loss.
And maybe, perhaps if you are someone who has said something to me, that is what you meant to compliment. Because you know what? I am looking good these days because I am feeling good these days. I love being a mother again. I am no longer battling depression every hour of every day. My family has brought a new light and twinkle to my eyes. And, two and a half years after the job that destroyed my writing soul, I am coming up with new story ideas daily and I am gaining the confidence to start writing again.

So this is what I hope to teach my daughter and she grows older and taller,as she inevitably (which she reminds me on a daily basis) will "get big!"

Try new things, find new passions, work hard to be the person you want to become.
But don't let your body image, a number on a scale, or outside forces define who you are.

And, though it seems so Pinteresty-cliche, be-you-tiful.