DUTCHbeingME

This past weekend, I participated in a writing workshop that in order to get to know the others in the group better the facilitator suggested we write about memories throughout the years. Because I liked this writing exercise, for Weight Watchers Wednesday post today I have decided to let you get to know the “old” me a little better.

I remember falling in love with chocolate… treats given by a doting grandmother for Halloween, Valentine’s Day and Easter. A little baggie filled with these goodies that sometimes never made it through the remainder of the week after receiving it.

I remember being a picky eater as a young child… not because I didn’t like the food but rather that I was scared to try something new, something with color, not knowing if I’d like it or if it would be bitter and “yucky”. This carried on through my adult years, so much so that I am still continually reminded to this day of the person I was by relatives – and now being afraid that they aren’t seeing the person that I am.

I remember as a middle school student staying home from school to eat… and remember eating only things that were in the “sweets” category. Then not wanting to go back to school for fear that I would be found out that I was a liar about my “illness” that I would try to stay home more days than really what was needed. I have to admit that I am so ashamed of recalling and writing this out now because I value education and the continual learning process throughout life.

I remember being in high school and eating the same lunch every day. Ham Sandwich on bun, chips, occationally applesauce or fruit cup and a Little Debbie pack of cakes or bars. Every day. I did this partly because I really, truly believed it was a “healthy” option – but probably more because I had control over what was there and I didn’t have to be ridiculed about what I was choosing… or not choosing… in the hot lunch line.

I remember the many days in college… going to the “fast food” place on campus or, after transferring colleges, using the fast food drive thru’s as my main source of nourishment. A burger and fries. Grilled cheese and fries. Anything and fries. (See a pattern here??) A neighbor recently told my parents that he doesn’t remember me getting out of my car in those days without some type of fast food bag and large drink in my hands.

I remember the first week of my Weight Watchers membership in 2002… when I counted the points for a typical lunch that I would have in the weeks prior, and finding that I ate more points in just that lunch hour than I even had allotted for myself in the entire day. The feeling was horrible. A pit in my stomach… and yet I didn’t truly change my ways until 5 years later.

I will remember more…

What do you remember????

Last night I was working on a bio for my attendance at the Relevant Conference that I’ve recently signed up for. The conference is in October, but many of us that are going are very excited (trust me, you should see the twitter feed as we’ve been discussing the conference… and just remember it’s 8 months away.)

Anyway… I had to submit a picture along with my information… and I thought about trying to get one of the professional pictures I had done last year (wow, was it really a year ago?!?). BUT then tonight, in my pseudo laziness (more lazy than pseudo) I came up with the idea of editing one of my own photos and submitting that instead. Yes, self portrait. And I love it. If you haven’t figured it out yet, it is the picture to the left. What do you think?

So you are probably asking yourself, what in the world does this have to do with Weight Watcher’s Wednesday?? Yeah, I was kinda thinking that same thing as I was dreaming up this post in my mind. But then it hit me.

This really does epitomize part of what I have achieved. 4 years ago I couldn’t stand being in pictures, looking at pictures of myself or simply even walking past a mirror at times. I couldn’t stand looking at the person that wasn’t doing anything with her life and was ashamed of who she was. I did things to please others, instead of myself (something that I still fall prey to at times).

I didn’t believe I was beautiful. And because I didn’t believe that, I didn’t have confidence that others would love me (hence the reason for wanting to do things to please others).

But now, look at me at the beginning of this post. I am confident and proud of myself and what I have accomplished — and proud of what I look like.

I almost feel like I can call myself beautiful.

I’m afraid I’d be called vain though.