Love Your Body

Some friends of mine went to an annual Halloween event our town has every year.  I love going to this event.  Kids, adults and even pets are dressed up in costumes.  Last night there was even a Ninth Doctor!  And I missed it all. 

I missed it because I knew I wouldn't be able to walk around without being in pain.  It hurts to stand or bend my left foot too much.  My right thigh is constantly on fire because I've had to shift all my weight onto it because it's stronger and my right foot. 

I'm not jealous that my friends went just envious.  I feel like I'm missing out on life.  You never realize how much you rely on your body to take you places and help you enjoy life until one part of it isn't working properly. 

I urge everyone to stop hating your body because it doesn't look the way that media and society say it should look.  What does it matter if it can move you?  I'm not saying you shouldn't care what your body looks like because yes, looks are important but it's what's inside the package that is the most important.  And if you look hard enough you will find parts that you love for purely aesthetic values. 

Just remember that you should love your body more for what it can do than what it looks like.  Love your body because it takes you were you need to go and more importantly where you want to go.  It helps you to live life and be happy.   

Congenital Birth Defect (CBD): Entry 1

I have been dealing with some medical problems the past month.  I haven't wanted to write much on it because the emotions I'm experienced are not on the positive side and this blog is supposed to be about loving your body and developing and maintaining high self-esteem.  And right now I'm not loving my body and my self-esteem is taking some really hard hits.  After talking with a colleague he told me I should really blog about it I did some thinking and decided to write about what I'm going through.  Part of loving your body and maintaining good levels of self-esteem is also acknowledging that there are time when you hate your body and you feel worthless.

So, I'm going to start a special series regarding my on going medical problems.  I'm going to be honest and expose all sort of things about myself that I don't really like to show off.  It's not going to be pretty but being sick isn't supposed to be pretty.  Being sick is not like in movies, where the hero or heroine are pale with circles under their eyes but still managed to look beautiful.  And sometimes people who are ill don't look ill, like me.

So here goes...

I was born with a congenital birth defect.  My left foot and lower part of my leg are shorter than my right.  When I tell people this they have a tendency to say, "Oh I have the same thing.  Lots of people have that."  I'm not sure if they're trying to make me feel better by showing me that I'm "normal" like everyone else or if they're trying to tell me that I'm being a drama queen.  Either way, my birth defect is not the same as everyone else with a millimeter difference in arms and legs.

My leg and foot differences --an inch and half-- are big enough that I've had a life time of issues.  When I was born my foot was bent forward meaning my toes touched my kneecap.  I was put in a cast for several weeks.  My mother was in tears believing she'd done something wrong, my father was just freaked out.  After lots of different doctors, I was finally put into the care of a pediatrician who knew exactly what was going on and sent me to see an orthopedic leg and foot specialist.

What caused my leg and foot problems was just series of uncontrollable events.  I was the first born and so my mother's womb and uterus weren't as stretchy.  So, I was cramped.  I also shifted around causing my left leg and foot to press up against the womb wall while the right was hanging loose allowing it to grow.  I had regular visits to a podiatrist and when I got older and started wearing proper shoes my parents had to buy me sturdy shoes with lots of support and put a lift on my left shoe.

I hated those shoes and the lift.  The shoes were always brown leather Oxfords that looked, to me, more like boys' shoes than girls' shoes.  I wanted to wear patent leather Mary Jane's but they weren't sturdy enough.  And then there was the lift.  The lift was always a different color from the sole on the shoe.  If the sole was black the lift was white.  The lift always stood out so that everyone could see it.

From the age of six to nine that shoe and its lift always made me an object of curiosity and a target of bullying.  I wanted nothing more than to be just like everyone else.  I looked forward to the day when I would have the operation that would fix my foot and I wouldn't have to wear ugly boy shoes with a mismatched lift.

When I was seven we moved from Illinois to Texas.  The podiatrist in Texas decided that I didn't need the operation or the lift.  He'd decided that I the inch and half wasn't significant enough to put me through the pain of an operation and recovery..  So, I was cleared and I didn't have to wear the lift anymore. 

However, because I didn't have the surgery this put my back at an angle which sometimes caused back pain and at one point I had back spasms.  I had a visible limp when I wore shoes with a heel higher than two inches and my hip also hurt when I walked in two inch heels.  Finally, there were times when my right leg would hurt from putting the weight of my body on it for too long. 

Even with all these problems I wasn't in too bad shape until recently.  A month ago I stood up to leave work and my left foot hurt.  I thought it might be my ballet flats which have very little arch support.  I went home changed shoes and headed off to do an event for a charity.  Well, the pain started to get worse and I decided to go to the doctor.

At first my doctor thought it was a strained tendon and advised me to roll my foot over a frozen bottle of ice water four times a day.  After about a week of trying this I decided to go back.  They did some x-rays and called me to tell me I had a congenital birth defect (duh) and sent me to a podiatrist.

The podiatrist confirmed that I do have congenital birth defect (again duh) and went on to explain what was happening with my foot.  Apparently, my body has been auto correcting my step so that I can complete the step and not fall over.  This auto correction means that I step on the outside of my left leg which causes lots of pressure.  It also causes my leg bones to bow which causes the auto correct, which causes the pain, which causes the bowing...you get the picture.  Since, we live in a small town the doctor decided to send me to the big city of Houston to see an orthopedic surgeon there. 

The new doctor wants to do an operation that will lengthen my left leg and straighten it out.  This will relieve the pressure and basically make me better. 

I'm scared and I'm worried but I'm also not one to get bogged down in fears.  I just suck it up and go for it.  So, I'm sucking it up and going for it which is proving much harder than it should. 

So, there you have it.  I'm going to continue to blog as much as possible.  Although, I will be writing about my leg I'm going to try and not make the blog all about that because really who wants to read about me whining and crying, lol. 

The Appearance of Health Rather Than True Health

So, I've been checking out gyms the past couple of weeks.  I have a trainer who comes to the gym I work out in but I'm I'm just not really happy at my current gym.  Looking for a new gym has been an interesting experience, to say the least.  What strikes me most is the way the owners/operators of these places believe they know why I want to join their facility even before I say.   

They see me a fat person and assume that I want to lose weight.  When I tell them that losing wait is not my main goal, that I'm happy with my size and shape they seem gobsmacked and feel the need to remind me that If I start working out regularly that I will loose weight and that's a good thing.

Yes, it is a good thing but it's not the only good thing and for me it's not the best thing, it's just a thing.  It's taken me a long time to come to terms with my body and be happy with my physical appearance and bothers me when others see me and assume that I'm not happy with myself.  For me the best thing is a return to the stamina and strength I had two years ago before my knee injury and financial problems. The later of which kept me from seeking medical assistance to correct the knee problem.  Two years ago, I worked out five to six days a week and I was still a curvy woman, in fact, I was an even curvier woman.  I was a clothing size bigger back then.   


Wednesday's gym visit was a particularly difficult one.  The gym itself was nice.  It wasn't crowded, it was well maintained, and had a nice variety of machines.  However, the owner left something to be desired.  I left the gym deciding that I would never step foot in there again. I seriously think he broke my Dick Alert.

He started off by saying that he wouldn't take my money unless I was going to be dedicated to changing and getting results.  If I wasn't going to dedicate myself, well then I shouldn't be there because I was a walking advertisement for his business.  If people asked me where I worked out and I said his gym but I didn't look good, well what did that say about his gym?


When I told the owner that I'd suffered a knee injury that took me two years to correct he said, "Do you know what caused that injury?" and before I could answer he answered, "if your knee didn't have as much weight to hold it wouldn't hurt."  I was too surprised, annoyed, and hurt to respond, however, if I had been in a better state of mind I would have told him he was wrong.  I should have said that my injury was actually caused by a wrong move I did during Zumba, an exercise activity.  I also have a few other medical issues that have nothing to do with weight but have to do with age (as I get older the existing conditions get worse).  But, I didn't because I was too embarrassed and pissed off that he was making me feel ashamed when I have nothing to be ashamed of.  

However, I have to wonder if I had told him would it have mattered?  Or would he have seen me as a person in denial?  I have a feeling I would have been Ms. Denial for him and here's why.  After, diagnosing my knee injury, he proceeded to lecture me on eating habits.  Eating when depressed causes you to gain weight, then you're even more depressed and you eat more, etc.  I told him that I didn't eat when I was depressed.  I also didn't eat much in general and I didn't eat a lot of sweets.  He decided I had a low metabolism because I didn't exercise enough.  Go figure.  The truth is, I'm a *recovering bulimic (a blog for a different time) and I still deal with a lot of deeply root issues regarding food.  I did tell him that I was a recovering bulimic which was extremely difficult task--telling a stranger that you use to binge and purge.  You never know how they'll react.  But, I felt I needed to stand up for myself and my body and the reaction I received was one of bafflement.  He quickly recovered and was back to talk about maintaining a healthy life style with exercise and diet.              

It's taken me a long time to accept and love my body.  I've learned from past experience that although I may lose weight, I will never be a super thin person.  I will always have curves.  When I go to the gym or try an activity I go into it with realistic expectation and goals.  I don't expect to drop to a size 10 and have a six pack.  I expect I will probably suck at the activity not because I'm out of shape but because it's a new activity.  My goal is that I will strength my body, reach new limits, and have fun. 

So, it's insulting to me that when some fitness people look at me they seem to think that my desire to join a gym has more to do with the appearance of health rather than true health.   







*I say recovering because I'm not binge eating a purging the way I once did.  However, I feel that no one ever really recovers from an eating disorder because it's a constant struggle.  If you or someone you know has an eating disorder I urge you to get help.  The National Eating Disorders Association is just one site you can go to but there are tons.  Just use Google.