One of these things first

When I share my experience, strength, and hope at an AA meeting I often start at the beginning.  I talk about when I started drinking.  I was 15.

High school was a particularly stressful time for me.  I don't think it had to be.  But I had horrible self esteem and not too many people in my life with a healthy sense of self to help me.

When I tell my story I often say that I was lost as a teenager.  I had a hard time fitting in every place I tried.

I was pretty.  But not enough to be on of the Pretty Girls.  My parents didn't allow me to wear much make up.  My straight hair didn't hold perms very long.  I didn't really care about clothes.  I was happy in jeans and my dads old flannel shirt.

I was smart.  But not enough to be one of the Smart Kids.  I failed biology.  Twice!  I took two years of math in four.  I had a hard time concentrating.  I hated to study.

I was athletic.  But not enough to be an Athlete.  I played volleyball in 10th grade.  But when it got time to move up to Varsity I couldn't handle the competition.  The older girls were intimidating and aggressive. I wasn't so concerned about winning.  I wanted to have fun. So I quit.

When I found cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol I found my place.  I did that well.  I was finally enough.  It made me (or so I thought) more interesting.  Mysterious.  More daring.  More mature.  Grown up.
It made me funny.  It made me clever.
It made me an asshole.

So 20 years later as I reflect on my adolescence and all of the things I could have been or wanted to be I think of where I am.  And I had a moment just recently when I realized all of those possibilities that were at my fingertips at 15 are still there.

I am pretty.  My teeth are a little yellow from 20 years of smoking.  I don't keep up with my roots that well.  I'm usually dressed from head to toe for under 25 bucks.  But no one is paying attention to my teeth when I smile.  And I do that a lot more than I did at 15. ( Just ask my dad.)

I am smart.  I have an Associate of Science degree.  A Bachelors degree.  I have my Masters in Social Welfare.  So, it took me 9 years to complete 6 years of school.  I did it.  I have two professional licenses.  Granted, I know alot of complete idiots that hold both licenses.  But I was smart enough to work hard for them.  And I hope I make smart decisions for the people I serve.

I am an athlete.  I can't chaturanga.  But I try.  Week after week.  One day I will do it.  Maybe after the shoulder surgery I need from lifting weights like a badass for the last three years.  I have cycle shoes and sneakers.  And wear them.  Often.  I have found my strength.  I can't wait to Warrior Dash.

So I could have been all of these things.  Not just one.  But all of them.  Because I am now.  And who I am today is who I inherently was as a teenager.  Just a little older.  And with faith that if I take a risk and get out of my comfort zone I will survive.  I am that same girl but with confidence.  I am someone who trusts herself and those she surrounds herself with.  I am someone who doesn't need to 'fit in' so badly.  Because who am I really trying to fit in with?  I am no less than.  I am no better than.  I'm a flawed beauty.  A philosophical ditz. I am an brownie for breakfast eating jock.

That is my experience.  That is my strength.  There is hope.

perspective

I have a girlfriend who has recently lost a significant amount of weight.  I don't know how much.  I wouldn't even take a guess.
She lost it in a very healthy manner. Diet and exercise.  She exercised her ASS off.  She looks great.  And I'm hesitant to say that because I in no way want to imply that she did not look great before.  I'm super sensitive when it comes to complimenting weight gain, weight loss, etc. I try and avoid commenting on it.
This friend and I were chatting on the phone one day and she mentioned quite excitedly that she was trying on clothes and she was a size 6.
I had an incredible moment of clarity.
I have been spending the last few weeks going through old clothes.  Clothes that I have not fit into in years but have been unable to part with until now.
Having Rocco has changed how I treat my body and how I see myself.  Some would argue that I am still pretty preoccupied with how I look.  But I have done a tremendous amount of work in therapy and recovery.  I love working out and challenging my body.  I am proud of my muscles.  Accepting of my cellulite.  Powerless over my chin.
Over the last 5 or 6 years I have been eating.  Cycling. Squatting.  I had a baby.  I turned 36. I stopped throwing up.  I stopped smoking.  I have stuffed my face shamelessly with ice cream, empanadas, hunks of cheese, mayonnaise, and Krause's chocolate.
I have held up jeans that I know will not fit me.  But for some reason feel like I need to try them on just in case.  I can hardly get my calf in them.
I have been slowly been adding to my wardrobe.  I need new pants!  And I have been bitching and moaning that I am now a size 6.  I don't even bother trying on clothes any smaller when I am shopping.  Come to terms with it, Kelli.  Size 1 and 2 are a thing of the past.  You are not 21 anymore.
I have to remember that there are people out there working really hard to fit into a smaller size.
And in some ways I guess I have been working hard, too.  I wouldn't say I've been working on getting bigger.  But I have been working on taking care of myself.  And loving my body.  Being more than just a body.  And this is the end result.
A size 6.
For now...