It doesn't matter that the skirt I wore today used to barely zip around my waist and now hangs lazily on my hips.
It doesn't matter that pictures regularly prove that I'm slenderer (no, really, that's a word) and firmer than I used to be.
It doesn't matter that 90 percent of the time, when I see my reflection, I think, "Hey, looking gooood!"
There are still times that I feel like all of my efforts have been wasted and I look terrible.
In my head, I turn the tiny jiggle of my upper thighs into a ponderous, swelling wave of fat that is going to engulf the world. And the skin and fat the hangs from my upper arms reminds me of giant, awkward wings. And my over-sized calves make me think of Godzilla tromping through Tokyo. And the stretchmarks crossing my belly look like a road map of failure.
Fortunately, though these moments are discouraging, they are few.
To combat them, I have to remind myself of what I've accomplished with this body that I denigrate so freely. Also, I remember that having fat on my body does not make me a less valuable human being, just as losing fat cannot make me any more worthy of love and kindness than I always have been.
I have to choose daily not to buy into the idea that being skinnier will make ME happy. Been there, done that, it wasn't true. Perhaps it works for some but weight loss has never been a sustainable motivating factor for me. Finding something I love and going after it with passion, however, has made me happier AND healthier.
Also, watch this (FYI, Laci is very open about sexuality and uses a little bit of colorful language).