A Weighty Series, part 13

We keep rolling toward the end of this series, and while you can read all previous 12 posts--part 1part 2part 3part 4part 5part 6part 7part 8part 9part 10part 11, and part 12--I definitely recommend that you read yesterday's post, part 12, because I'm picking up right where it left off. Without further adieu, here you go:

I say this with a broken heart, but it is completely true:

I have NEVER looked at my body in the mirror--clothed, partially clothed, naked, doesn't matter--and had a God glorifying thought. Never.

Sisters Olivia Ward and Hannah Curlee
from the last season of The Biggest Loser;
they started out around my current size.
[click image for link to Fitness magazine article,
the origin of the picture
But that sweet, precious savior of mine won't give up on me. I still cannot say those diets are sin for all. For me, for right now, they are. See, my definition of "success" is that I weigh 160 pounds. But even as I write that, a part of me still thinks, "But man, look at Olivia and Hannah from the Biggest Loser. They're about my height and they both are about 130 and they look amazing. I bet I could get there." Seriously, enough is NEVER enough.

Even if I weighed 130 I'd lament that my tummy would never look at 130, even with plastic surgery, the way someone who was never obese looked, and even if I were nowhere NEAR obese anymore I'd still feel guilty because I used to be. I'd think that even if I'd never gained the weight I'd still have short legs. I never praise God that my long torso evens out my short legs and lets me be 5'7"--I lament that my short legs don't match my long torso so I could be 5'10". Enough is never enough.

One of my favorite songs is Girl America by Mat Kearney (track 4 in the link). These lyrics resonate with me with increasing levels of sobering truth upon each subsequent listen:

My girl America is just a youth in this world
Her smile is more precious than the sparkle of pearls

And though her age reads she's just a young girl

The age behind her eyes show the pain that she's swirled

My girl, she's at a crossroads, people praying for her
Some are preying on her magazine ads, sex, drama

Smoking marijuana, longin' for a father to call her, 'daughter'

She's part of a generation longing for reconciliation

And this future that they're facing and this poison that they're tasting

My girl, I know this love that you're chasing

Hating My Husband
You know what I hate? I hate that I have a rare gift that I absolutely throw to the ground time and time again. My husband looks at me and sees the most beautiful woman in the entire world. He doesn't just try to convince himself of this--he really, actually believes it. But guess what I do? I usually blow him off. I say something like yeah, sure, whatever. I don't believe him--I call him a liar. And worst of all, frequently in my heart I think he's gross, like something is wrong with him, because he's not good enough of a man to have married a more attractive woman than me. In my heart, I'm hating Jason for seeing a beautiful woman when he looks at me.

How disgusting is that? I call Jason a sinner, I cut down his manhood, his worth, all because I don't believe him or Jesus about my inherent beauty, not just as a daughter of God but as God's creation. I don't see beautiful breasts that are my husband's delight. I see fat sagbags that ruin my life because they aren't firm and perky enough to be worn in public without a bra. I don't see a sexy butt--and my husband compliments my butt at least once a day, every day...pretty much every time he sees it, actually. I see a huge, nasty mess of bubbledom because it doesn't look like the girl on the stupid porn sign for that "dancer" place that we have to avert our eyes from every time we go to a Seahawks or Mariners game. I am not firm and curvy and tight and perky and lifted and toned and flat and therefore I am gross and disgusting and worthless.

Death To Despair
Praise God this body is gone,
but as a result no amount of
weight loss and hard work
will give me a supermodel's
body, and that's ok!
Jesus won't leave me there. The despair, the basing of my worth on the lie which Satan uses to literally and figuratively kill woman after woman and young girl after girl, is sinful. Jesus wants to set me free, to be my redemption, my freedom, my joy, and my song. I tell you this with a somber confidence that I cannot explain: while I have peace about continuing this journey, tracking my progress as I do pursue a healthier body, Jesus does not have a number in mind. Not a weight on the scale, not a size of my jeans, not a number of inches lost, not a hips to waist ratio. I really don't believe he does. Jesus is not spurring me to that place. Even if I find a place that is healthy, where I can feast with joy and exercise and do hard work that physically makes me able to perform the daily tasks before me as a wife and mother, even if that exists for my body, I will not stay there. By God's grace I'll have more babies. My body will change more. I may have reparative plastic surgery. But, again, by God's grace I'll get older and then things will droop and sag and wrinkle and lose elasticity.

Does working hard and then seeing gravity--and life-- affect my body make my effort for weight loss and that possible surgery a waste? No. God's grace is that I have this body, it is a gift, and I need not merely steward it like some cumbersome task. I want to feel joy, to worship God with this body, knowing it's a shadow of my heavenly body. And guess what? In the deepest part of my gut I simply know that our heavenly bodies will not look like Gisele Bundchen and _____ (fill in the blank with some perfect bodied male celebrity; I honestly don't pay attention beyond faces to men so I really wouldn't know--I literally sat here just now trying to figure out some guy with a great body and could only come up with big names or handsome faces but I have no idea what their bodies are like!). The Bible makes it clear that how we define beauty and how God defines beauty are not the same, and that shines some hope into the dark part of my heart that feels worthless in this obese frame I currently wear.

Speaking of current, Monday I'll touch on where I am right now since this and yesterday's posts were written two weeks ago. We're closerthanthis to wrapping up!


  1. I love the part where your husband loves you no matter what. I have a husband like him. I remember sometime before getting married what our first night was going to be like...was he going to be disgusted or like "oh look at the rolls you have...." On our wedding night, he made me feel so beautiful! And since then too!

  2. Such a great comment! I'm so grateful to hear that you have a wonderful husband, too! I am so blessed by a man who loves me for me and sees my body not as some gross thing he wishes looked hotter, but rather as a beautiful extension of the woman he loves. He repeatedly reminds me that I am his standard of beauty and I am incredibly blessed!