My Neverending Quest for Approval

The last time I looked in a mirror and REALLY felt great was Christmas of 1997. I can remember the experience as vividly as if it had happened five minutes ago. I was 18, I was home for break from my first year of college. I had spent most of the three weeks home in bed because I had mono, strep throat, and a staff infection all at the same time. It was miserable. Before I had gotten sick, I was weighing in at a healthy 160. I had lost the freshman 15 rather than gained it. Then, while I was stuck in bed, I lost another 10 pounds. Not the best way to do it, of course, but I sure did feel great. Anyway, I was standing in a Victoria's Secret with my friend who was returning some underwear. By principle, I NEVER go into Victoria's Secret. I loathe that store!! It makes ordinary women feel inadequate. That's another message, though. I was standing in line with her, and I caught a glimpse of myself in one of their many mirrors from the side. At first, I had to do a double take because for a split second I wasn't even sure it was me. I can remember feeling this sense of euphoria that I had never experienced before.

Like a lot of us here on MFP, we have been conditioned all our lives to believe that we aren't good enough the way we are. My parents always praised me, but there was always one area where I was completely lacking and that was my eating habits and my weight. My mother commented endlessly to me and my sister and to this day, she still does. I can understand her motivation and her intentions, but if I could change her approach I would. I always told myself how ugly I was. " You can never be as pretty as Sarah, Lindsay! (Sarah was, and is, an exotically beautiful friend of mine. Ironically, she hates the way she looks, though. I guess no one is safe from their demons.) You can never be skinny, Lindsay! You are a failure, Lindsay! You are ugly and fat, Lindsay!" The insults kept coming, and even though I know none of those statements are true, I truly believed them. I still do to some degree...

Now, I am fortunate in that I have a husband who is always telling me how beautiful I am. After having four children, my stomach hangs like a deflated balloon. I have a few chins and my thighs rub together when I walk. But, he still tells me how beautiful he thinks I am. I wish I could believe him. I still think those horrible things. My husband has never lied to me. He always tells me the truth. My children tell me the truth. They all tell me that I am beautiful just the way that I am. But, I never seem to believe them. My inner demons are much more cunning, much more convincing then the sweet words of my loved ones. Every day since that December day in 1997, I have been trying to feel the way I felt when I looked in that mirror. I don't know how it will go. Will I FINALLY reach my goal and all of a sudden those evil thoughts will disappear? I doubt it. Like I have read so many times on here, this is a journey, one we learn so much on while we do it. I would love to think that if I can get to 150 again (I am 5'8") I will look in the mirror and truly be happy. But, I would love it even more if I could look in the mirror now, at 203 pounds, and love who I see. Someday...