After The Weight

Last night I spent an inordinate amount of time putting cellulite cream in my Amazon basket. Then taking it back out. Because I’m so evolved I don’t need it. But maybe I do? But, if I knew 100 percent it worked I would let you have a kidney for it. Or would I? Because I’m so past all of this physical appearance stuff.

I’m wearing the swimsuit and I’m living my life. But, I still have a mirror. And a lot of self tanner.

If you want to feel a bit better about yourself, go to the public pool. If you want to feel worse, go to Seaside. It’s all relative.

At 37 years old, I am not in the worst shape of my life. I’ve weighed no less than 75 pounds more than I do now when I was much younger and I learned a valuable lesson then. One I’m having to practice again and again. In some ways, it’s like riding a bike. Contentment no matter the reflection in the mirror. Worth beyond the scales.

I’ve done it so many times over the years. The yo-yo. And I don’t mean the number on the scale. I mean the mindset. The value of who I am tied to what I see in a mirror. I cut the cord. Then I find it and get tied up again.

Oh, Lord, how I wish there was a ‘before and after’ for what lies inside. For our hearts. For our minds. For our courage. For the brave.

Last summer I went to the beach with a dear friend and as the sun set we were taking pictures and we just took a picture. Just like that. I didn’t think anything about it. And I was wearing my swimsuit. And this was a big deal for me.

When I was younger I was absolutely certain that losing weight or having a firm body or a very certain shape would SOLVE my problems. My life would be easier. More simple. More wonderful. Better. Oh, so much better. Blissfully wonderfully run down the beach without jiggle better.

And that was a lie.

There was a time when I lost the weight. I was sick and so it wasn’t some joyful journey to health. It was hard and it was quite honestly awful. If you’ve ever wished to be sick so that you would lose weight, don’t. It is a harrowing experience.

But, after the illness, most of the weight stayed off. And I began to eat differently. As it turns out certain foods made me very sick. And now I eat like I never thought possible.

Then, a strange thing happened. I didn’t have that confidence I was sure would come with the weight loss. I didn’t cringe when I looked at pictures but I still felt … not like the girl in the commercial. I was still me.

Whatever was on the inside was still there. Whatever sent me to food for comfort. Whatever held me back from being brave. It was all still there.

It wasn’t a number on a scale. It wasn’t really even self-esteem in a traditional way we talk about it. It was a lack of vision. My problem, as it turns out, wasn’t with the scale. It was with my vision. Did I lose you? I was pretty lost for much of that time. And never clearly saw what made me who I am.

I thought I was made up of a lot of different things: I was a mother, a writer, a wife in a very different marriage than I am currently, an editor. I was my career and I was my relationships. I was a lot of labels. I loved the Lord. I knew Him. I even thought I knew Him well. And in some ways I did. But, I had that vision problem.

While I saw God as He was, as His daughter I was still looking at myself through my own eyes and the eyes of the world. A world bent on performance and determined to make us feel less than so that we will buy more more more and buy into a goal-oriented existence.

I was putting my standards in my accomplishments (and, God help me, in my failures). I felt great in some ways when I achieved. And defeated in others when I simply wasnt enough. Vision. I lacked HIS vision.I knew who God was. I kept missing who God says I am.

And I am His. At any weight. At any career position. With any title. In any marital status. With a baby or without one. Fertile or barren. Picked last for the team or the star pitcher. With a fat bank account. With a negative one. With a child who has straight As or one who is barely scraping by. I am His no matter what size I wear. No matter what my scale says (I havent had a scale in three years and its a game changer). I am His when I fail Him and when I walk in faith. And with all the cellulite or none at all.

And He never loves me any less. He never stops and says: If I wouldve known she was going that route I wouldnt have sent Jesus to the cross. Never.

I thought that my only peace and joy with this flawed body would come when my body changed. Maybe its not your body. Maybe its your success, your popularity. Your friends. Your family. The boyfriend. Or lack of one. The husband who doesnt act like Noah from the Notebook every single second of every day. Or ever.

There is nothing on this earth that will fill that satisfaction and give you the Lords perfect balance of boldness and humility like finally beginning to understand who He says you are. And why He made you.

He says you are beloved and precious. You are His. You are worth it. You are worth every last bit of it. You are worth a brutal death on the cross. You are worth far more than you can ask or imagine in His eyes.

So, enjoy your summer. Be extra bold, enjoy even the times you don the swimsuit. Knowing God made your skin that shade (mine is somewhere between milk and chalk) and your hair curly or not, He made you tall or petite, curvy or straight. Your value rests in Him. In the work you do for His kingdom, which requires this body. Love it. Take care of it. It needs to last a long time because, girl, He has plans for you that require this body.

Take care of it.

Take care of it.

And fix your vision problem before you do anything else. Get in His word without fail and begin to see how much the Lord loves you. How much He has planned for you. And how much He has promised you. His promises never fail. Even when we do.

A version of this post was previously published on The Standout Project.