So, this is happening. I have officially started a blog, which is something you’re clearly aware of if you’re reading this. I don’t really know who I am yet as a blogger, and I am apparently technology-stupid because I can barely figure out how to navigate and use WordPress, but hey, baby steps, right?
I have only been seriously thinking about writing for about 5 days now, and of course, when I finally come up with a name I only semi-hate, I can’t think of anything to say.
So I will tell you a story.
Last week, I had my first appointment with an orthopedic doctor. If you don’t know, I was in a car accident about three months ago. I was extremely lucky; escaped with a couple of herniated discs and my life.
Anyway, the point of this visit was basically to have another opinion on what my chiropractor has been doing for treatment, check on the MRIs I had done, etc. etc. (I promise I’m not going to give you a play-by-play of the discs in my spine, hang with me here.)
When the doctor finally came in, and I do mean finally, she was about 45 minutes late, citing a traffic accident on the major highway nearby. I was already annoyed at this point; not only did I just come from the SAME PLACE as she did with no traffic OR accident, even if there had been… hello!?! I’m a journalist. I get alerts on these types of things! Just tell me your kid missed the bus or some other very real, understandable hang-up, I’m not completely unreasonable… just mostly.
So I’m already pissed off. Then she proceeds to basically tell me she isn’t all that concerned about my issues, speak to me as though I am said child that missed the bus, and just generally condescend to me, criticizing pretty much everything I say.
I was THIS close to telling her off… but then something totally unexpected happened.
Just after she has me bend this way and that, walk around, poke at me a bit, she tells me that if I strengthen my core, it will help my lower back.
For some reason, even though this is a completely legit statement and one I’ve heard before, because I’m already in a pissy mood, I’m defensive and immediately feel the need to justify my physical stature (which is pretty much short and somewhat round, I’ve been referred to as think, curvy, etc.). So I say, “Well, I know I don’t look like it, but I do work out… I swim along with an adult swim team and I take strength classes, you can’t see my muscle but it’s really there somewhere.” (Seriously, it is!!)
And that’s when it happens.
She stops. And she stares at me. And says matter-of-factly, “You’re not fat. I think you look strong. Bodies come in all shapes and sizes, and just because you don’t look like what you see on TV and magazines doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you. So many people love you, that’s what really matters. Your body looks like it is supposed to, and if you keep working out, sure, it may change, but just keep doing what you’re doing. You need to stop.”
And then because I’m me, I start to cry. (To be fair, I do cry over pretty much everything that elicits any kind of strong emotion. Mad, sad, happy, angry, frustrated… sigh.)
Which causes me to be even MORE annoyed, because I’m annoyed she has to go and say something pretty awesome when I was all intent on digging in my heels and disliking her.
The truth is… no one has ever said that to me before. I think in some ways, being told I looked strong, instead of pretty, or beautiful or anything else, was exactly what I needed to hear. Especially because she wasn’t the “tell-you-what-you-want-to-hear” type.
It made me think a little differently about some of my current goals in life. Yes, I want to lose weight. Yes, I want to look better– even great– in that white dress I have to put on in T-minus 15 weeks. Yes, I want to reach my Weight Watchers goals.
But I don’t want any of it unless I look– and feel– strong.