Double-Stuffed

Infertility and its cousins, Lack of Exercise and Emotional Eating, have all been very helpful over the last few years in packing on the pounds. I have gained about ten pounds each cycle, or 40 pounds in all. I have had a devil of a time taking it off, despite yo-yo dieting and basically making myself miserable with deprivation followed by the inevitable binge.

In the last year or so, I have been trying hard to become more comfortable in my (softer?) skin. I have given up dieting and instead eat what I please. I do try to keep my portions sensible, and I have found that in so doing, my cravings for sweets and other "forbidden" foods has dramatically decreased. I've not lost any weight, but I am striving to learn to love my body, or at least accept it, for the many things it DOES do for me. I have spent a decade hating it for what it won't do, and I have had enough. I have embraced fashion and am learning how to dress my current shape so that I feel (and look) my best, rather than wearing ill-fitting and unattractive clothing.

I tell you all of that so that you have sufficient background to appreciate the little exchange between Mo and I last night. I had purchased a bag of Oreos at the store this weekend on impulse. Over the course of the weekend, I ate several. (Ok, a whole row). Mo and I pulled them out while making dinner last night, and as we nibbled I said, "You know, I'm probably the only person on the planet who doesn't like regular Oreos. I sure do like the double-stuffed ones, though." "Mmmmmm, me, too," he mumbled.

After a beat, I said, "After all, why would you pick a skinny, flat, Oreo when you could have all that extra filling?" as I did a little ( or, not so little)) booty-shake.

Mo grinned. "Oh, definitely," he replied. "I'd choose double-stuffed every time." He grabbed my butt and we both died laughing.

It's a small thing, but the shift from derogatory comments about my body to embracing its curves has been a several-years-long work in progress. I teach 10-12 year old girls, many of whom are already indoctrinated into our societal stereotypes and already engage in fat-talk. I have become very aware of women's tendencies to downplay our figures and to speak badly about our bodies. As an infertile, I think it becomes magnified as we (quite normally) focus on what is wrong versus what is right with our bodies.

I am trying to change that. I am trying to see my body as the faithful friend it has been, allowing me the freedoms to walk, run, play, teach, shop, and even roll around in the sheets with my husband every once in a while. My ample curves give my nieces and my dogs soft places to rest their heads. My arms embrace my husband, my mom, and my students and let them know how much they are loved. My legs carry me to all kinds of places, allowing me to explore beaches and mountains with ease.

The thing is, my body is amazing. And so is yours. You might be a "plain" Oreo -- and that's okay. I am double-stuffed -- and that's okay, too. In fact, not only is it okay, but I can actually say in all seriousness, that I am beautiful this way. As my husband told me before we went to sleep last night -- Oreos are delicious, no matter what shape or size they come in.

So, today, I hope you have that cookie (or cupcake, or whatever you fancy), and know -- really know-- that its okay. You are beautiful, extra filling and all.