The real woman behind the curtain

I read somewhere once that women, on average, see themselves as 20% heavier than they actually are when they look in the mirror. I found that very interesting because, at the time, I usually found that I saw myself as thinner than I really was. I'd look at someone and think I was the same size as them and be shocked to find out they were one or two sizes smaller in reality. Of course, when you're only a size 10 you're doing ok regardless of how you look in your mind's eye.

Now I'm apparently average. I'm pretty sure I see myself as far, far worse than I actually am. I am, quite honestly, 50 lbs overweight. There is no denying that. But I have always carried a few pounds well hidden as I carry it in the waist. Up to a point that works for you. It's much harder to disguise a big butt than a bit of a tummy. Wear an empire waist and you're set. Stuff it all into some control tops and you're good. No one believed I was a size 14 when I was one. So, most likely, now that I am actually obese, I probably only look overweight.

So my challenge to myself tonight is to go find some good pictures of myself lately in which I don't look so bad. Because I have noticed that in some pics I don't look nearly as fat as I think I do. And when I find myself sitting in the nail salon waiting for my pedicure (oh yes, I do have some me time) while trying to hide my spare tire with my arms, I know things have reached a new low.

Let's see what we have:

Oh, ok fine, none of them are full body shots but let's go easy on the girl. If I didn't already know noses continue to grow your whole life I'd be more upset about the number of huge schnoz shots I came across in this exercise because I apparently never look at the camera anymore, just down at the kid with me, and that is not a good nose angle. In any case, I think these three pics should be shoved in my face any time I think I'm just plain ugly. Because I may be chubby, but my face is still ok. And if my face and upper body doesn't make me look like the gigantic blob I have in my mind's eye then I probably just don't look like one.

I just need to take my mom up on her offer to pay for my lipo. But honestly? After that c-section recovery? No thanks.

A bachelorette party

So my best friend Ellen's bachelorette party was this weekend.

Obviously in my younger, pre children days

I'm a bridesmaid in her wedding so I was instrumental in the planning of said event, but it was all about her. She wanted a wine weekend, so it was. She wanted penises everywhere, so it was. She wanted to spend the night in a house recovering from a day of drinking? Well, it mostly was. A cottage like hotel room. On which they used ridiculously exaggerating wide angle lenses to make it look like 9 girls could sleep in it. Only when you got there you found out the 'double beds' were built for 8 year olds. But I digress.

This weekend made me feel old. Old and out of touch.

Miz Ellen is 7 years younger than I. Her friends ranged from 7-15 years younger than I. They were thin and cute and smart and happening. I am none of these. Well I used to be smart, but then I used to be thin too. Most of that is just gone. I didn't know the music they played (very well, I mean I have heard Beyonce but I don't know the words) I don't really like wine so I had to pretend all day at wine tastings that I had a clue, I ran out of steam at about 4pm (seeing as how my infant had me up at 5am that was no surprise) and I am just not quite at the raunchy level of drinking through penis straws in public.

And I still let her near my children

I will do anything for that girl though. Even fondle a penis covered wand when she thrusts it in my face. Only once, but I will do it.

Now some of you may be remembering my bachelorette party. Sure, I got a lap dance from a drag queen with waaaay better boobs than I have, and yes, I danced in a cage AND on a stripper pole, but somehow one does lose one's inhibitions on one's day. Because this weekend I was feeling quite prudish. Or just old. Or I just don't like penises. I'm sure my husband is thrilled.

I'm sure you're all wishing I had pictures of my own party but somehow I don't have them on this computer. My friends are welcome to contribute but you'll have to just imagine me in a feather boa and a crown attempting to return the lap dance to my buxom friend on stage in front of everyone. Oh that seems so long ago. But I did learn something that night: I learned how to cut loose. I had always been very self conscious in public, even when dancing. And I knew I needed a costume to let it all go, but let it all go I did. I danced and stopped caring if people were looking, I laughed, I drank and I acted a fool and just stopped looking to see how people were reacting. And I was able to do the same on my wedding reception dance floor.

I can't say I've kept it going all this time, though. Having children out in public has given me a new self consciousness, the worry of how people are judging my parenting. And this weekend I felt very self conscious. I was the person who wanted to belong. I would love to be 30 again in some ways, but the truth is I wouldn't have fit in with these ladies even if I were 30. I'm a geek, a dork, the kind of person who would be at home reading a book or doing a sudoku puzzle in front of the tv. I'm not a wine tasting, party all day, penis gag gift fondling person. So whatever. It was interesting. It was a window into my best friend's life. She had a great time and that was my goal. I would have had to fall on my knife if she was unhappy with her one and only bachelorette party. So it's all good.

But god I've gotten old.

slacker Sunday photo

Who's sizing whom up?

slacker Sunday photo

Baby burrito then

Baby burrito now

Finally, a cut

The Before J, B, A

The Waiting

The After A

The After B

The After J

Sumthin's a changin'

For some reason, when I look in the mirror lately, it doesn't look as bad. A few weeks back I looked and saw actual ugly. I've never seen myself as ugly ever before, even all swollen up with a triplet pregnancy or sick from giving birth. I saw ugly, and it surprised me.

I saw a huge belly, saggy boobs, fat on my thighs where there had previously been none, stretch marks, brown spots all over my face and a tired, haggard looking woman. I'm sure you can't imagine why. But I didn't just look tired. I looked horrible to me. My nose was too big for my face, my eyes were just blah, my lips shrinking from their previously young and plump state and, of course, the bags and wrinkles. It just all looked bad.

Last week I made a decision. The only way this body was going to get better was if I just accepted it. Counterintuitive I know, but true. Fighting myself, beating myself up when I ate cookies to survive, starving myself (if I ever could), none of that was going to make me thin. It was time to accept I have a mom's body. I have an apple shape. This is what I look like. Sure, I'll wear Spanx and good bras and makeup, but day to day, this is it girl. Get over it.

And you know I didn't even really do much else besides have that thought. A couple of times I looked in the mirror and decided my belly didn't stick out that much. A couple of times I caught my silhouette in a store window and I looked like a normal person, fat around the middle and all. And last week my date night dress seemed to really disguise my stomach from the front at least. So I went out on a date feeling like I might look ok.

So the face looks good on good days. Certainly a smile helps. Good sleep makes the face look better too, and I've been eating better, so maybe the skin is happier, who knows. I still have brown spots all over, and bags, and the wrinkles didn't go anywhere but perhaps I'm looking a little less harshly. And today after getting ready for date night I thought, ok then, that's not so bad.

This is fantastic. I will take not so bad over ugly any day. Because a woman who walks around thinking she's ugly probably is to the rest of the world. She's not likely to be smiling. She's not glowing or shining or radiating or anything positive. So we're getting there. Perhaps people who see me now think I'm average, or think nothing of me, but I won't be ending up on the People of Walmart blog, thank god. And that's all a girl can ask for sometimes.

Maybe by October I'll think I'm kinda pretty?

Who is that woman?

Grandparents day. A made up holiday, sure, but there it was. Mom asked that I bring the kids to her assisted living facility so her friends could see them in person. I had no excuse not to. Truthfully, it turned out alright anyway. I thought the kids would cower behind my legs and not smile at anyone but instead they decided the activity room chairs were fun to climb on and chased each other around the room. Having the fat one along (R is now 27 lbs at less than 7 months of age) helped. He sat and provided the smiles and personality while the triplets burned off steam running people in walkers down.

But here's the thing, I heard it again. That refrain I have heard time and again and sort of sat in disbelief about for so long. The phrase "we just love your mother here, she's so great."

Who?

My mom? Enjoyable company? Loved? Easy to get along with? Um. Huh?

I don't mean to be mean, but I grew up with this person. I personally witnessed her getting enraged at cashiers at the grocery store when the computer had the wrong price for her item, accusing them of personally trying to cheat her, (thanks to growing up in Russia where they might just have been.) I personally have felt the impact of a poorly chosen tease of the woman with no ability to laugh at herself. I have doused the flames of her anger over slights that no one might have imagined they committed.

Where is this person I knew? Who is this person they know? Which one is the real her? Because I'm aware that my parents never saw the way I was to everyone else, I know we are all different with family than with others but I don't see how the ugly never shows through to her 'friends.' I guess she has a winning personality in there somewhere, and I'd love to be a fly on the wall to see how it appears. I'd love to find a way to think my mom's 'great' or find a way to love some part of her personality. I admire her will to survive that she used to have, I respect that she has every right to be as crazy as she is due to the circumstances of her upbringing, but like or love her personally? No. We would not be friends if we met on the street.

So I will remain clueless to this part of her. This person people want to spend time with. This person who already has a man wanting her company to restaurants and even the opera after moving in only a half a year ago. This woman who people 'love' and find endearing. And I will always wish I could see it too.