Tigers, weight gain, and what I accomplished this deployment.
(Before we start here, I just want to mention that this is me, being honest. It’s my narrative. My voice in my head that, like many women, tells me what it doesn’t like about me. It’s not a judgement on anyone else, and it’s not meant to give a standard to anyone. My guess in writing it is that, regardless of our different sizes, many woman have this same conversation with themselves. This is mine.)
This deployment I put on some weight.
I ate more than usual. I had to change gyms and with that my routine for exercise changed. I was working on top of parenting and I didn’t make the time for meal prep and planning as I usually do.
All those excuses to say that these last 6 months I just didn’t make exercise and healthy eating as much of a priority as I have before.
So even though I usually lose weight when he is away, I gained. Not a lot, but enough that I look a little different.
So for the last month or so, that’s been all I’ve seen. In fact, in my eyes, that’s been all I’ve accomplished.
I look at the little muffin top and that’s all I have used to sum up months and months of my life. I didn’t get it together enough to keep that under control.
I failed.
I have measured the success of my accomplishments this deployment on the size of my stomach roll and nothing else.
I’ve looked at pictures where I’ve been speaking or working and all I’ve seen is my middle.
I look in the mirror before bed and I remind myself I failed this deployment because I don’t look like I should and I don’t have time to “fix” it.
I failed this deployment because I gained a little weight where there wasn’t before.
But here’s the thing…
.
I worked 2 jobs. One is a contract is working at setting up a new family support in a military system where there wasn’t one and so far it’s working. It’s been an amazing challenge to see come together.
I started and ran a group for spouses in my community who weren’t otherwise connecting and we saw dozens of people come out each month.
I hosted dinners in my home every Sunday, feeding everyone from my neighbours to the General to this Sunday when we host the Mayor.
I succeeded in securing funding so Monster could receive some of the support services he’s been missing, and I got him there each week.
I drove my kids to Manhattan (including driving IN MANHATTAN) by myself so we could spend Christmas Eve at Rockefeller Center.
I was a key note speaker.
I took the kids to the National Ceremony for Remembrance Day.
I traveled to Edmonton by myself for a weekend to encourage a friend before she started chemo.
I went to Thailand to see Dh, slept in an airport in Tokyo and stayed alone in Bangkok for a night.
I prepped, painted and listed our house on the market.
I put on 2 kids birthday parties.
I navigated Halloween, Remembrance Day, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Family Day and Easter.
I finished 4 university classes on the Dean’s Honour Roll.
… but I don’t measure those accomplishments.
Because I don’t want to make it out like I want to brag or sound self important, and those things, they are just life. Nothing special or anything that makes me different from all the other people doing the same thing, day after day.
But I’ll definitely tell you the ways I think I have failed, about how much bigger I am now than I was before, how disappointed I am in how I look and how I’ve slacked in fitness or clean eating.
I’ll hide photos of me doing any of the things I worked hard at and the thought of them will be a negative one in my head because of how I think I looked while doing them.
I see this.
 |
Instead of this.
So instead of being like I PET A DAMN TIGER I am too busy thinking ‘man…. I’ve gained some weight….’
And I use it as the measuring tool for how well I did on this deployment. I failed. Because it’s there and it wasn’t before.
Except I didn’t fail.
And there IS something I can do about it in time.
I can accept it.
I can accept my body is awesome, it was awesome when it ran races and Tough Mudder, and it’s awesome now while still healthy, even if it’s not at that same standard of fitness, because it carries me to work, snuggles with my kids and hold my head up even when I’m at the end of my rope.
I can accept that the man who loves me does not base that
love on my ability to stay below a certain number on a scale. Not even
a little bit.
In Thailand, when he got tired of my self
conscious hiding, he just looked at me and said “how sexy you are is
based on how confident you are. Not on whether you have gained 5lbs but
on whether you can walk to the water without trying to hide yourself
from me.”
I wish every woman could have a man like that.
They would probably mostly ignore his compliments the same as I do…
But the truth is that not prioritizing one area of your life while you focus on another is not a measure of failure. An extra bit of fat on my body does not define my worth, or my accomplishments.
My best chance of ‘fixing’ it before Dh returns has nothing to do with a cleanse or a diet or busting my ### at the gym for the next while.
Instead it’s just recognizing it for what it is.
It is those successes that I accomplished instead.
So instead of saying ‘this deployment I gained weight‘, I am moving my narrative to ‘this deployment, I still have 2 feet on the ground, 3 kids who made it and a list of things that I managed to do on my own that I am really frickin’ proud of. And know what else? My husband thinks I’m hot.’
Also, I pet a tiger.
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reccewife
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