Love Yourself? How 'bout TOLERATE, Linda.

I stared at myself in the mirror, examining every wrinkle, every pore, every fat cell.   The differences between my body ten years ago and now screaming at me.  The counter littered with anti-aging, weight loss, and other and hopeful cosmetics stared intently at me.  A huge sigh escaped from my once wrinkle-free mouth.

I am aging.

It's easy to buy into the "love yourself regardless of what you look like" slogan when you somewhat LIKE your physical appearance.  But what about those of us who TOLERATE our physical appearance?  What about those of us who have to constantly throw clothing in "hopeful" bins or just throw them in the trash with a flick of the middle finger because they no longer fit and the chances of actually fitting. Into. Them. Ever. is like being woken with a kiss from a deep sleep surrounded by wood animals and dwarves by a hot prince who happens to also be your true love when you're 18 and you're set for life.

The scale shows a number I never thought I'd see.  And there are days when I weigh myself, and the horror of the result doesn't quite settle on me.  I just accept it like I do every other mundane detail.

Until I have a day where I drink only water and green tea, eat one meal, and still the damn thing hasn't moved.  (Perhaps it was the vodka/soda I consumed but we're ignoring that for now).  I flip my favorite finger at the inanimate object and go about my morning routine.  Seething.

I went to the doctor to discuss this weight gain that has settled on me in the past year.  I did all sorts of blood tests.  I was determined to find a culprit other than my eating/drinking habits.  Though there were signs that perhaps physically my body is not metabolizing the way it should, I also got the speech about how much I ate and was told to seek the help of Weight Watchers.

On my way home, with my amazing boyfriend who treats my health as his own, I downloaded the WW app and started perusing my new, hopeful task.  

By the second day, the app was deleted and I was disgusted.

Apparently, the way to lose weight by staying within your "point" range  is to eat only spinach and drink water.

No thank you, Linda.  I live with an amazing chef.  And I happen to like food.  Call me weird.

So now the trick in my newfound body is to achieve feeling beautiful by doing things that don't involve aging.  Or weight.  Cuz being in a bikini invokes a gag reflex.

I'll let you know when my personal love needle starts to creep out of the "TOLERATE" range.