In yesterday's post I promised to write more about this foreign concept of beautiful people dating other beautiful people. The notion struck me when I was at a Mariners game Saturday night and these heavily made up girls, only nominally interested in the game, put up with the incessant hyperactivity of their dates. Said dates, of course, made up in hair gel what they lacked in eyeliner and mascara. Both could hold a competition for who had the tightest shirt, and had each couple done that I'm pretty sure the odds would be fairly split down the middle in guys vs. gals.

It is utterly incomprehensible to me to be one of those people. And don't get me wrong- as biting as my wit may seem, my disposition toward beautiful people isn't necessarily sour. Some of my dearest friends are those beautiful people, though I can proudly say that my female friends who are that gorgeous would never attend a Mariners- or Seahawks, for that matter- game and nonchalantly examine her nails as Richie Sexon hits a funk blast (aka Mariners speak for home run). It would behoove me to say here that the Seattle Mariners are a major league baseball team... although a little bit of me just died inside at the notion of someone not being aware of that.

So, to the point, I don't have problem with beautiful people. Mainly, I just don't get them. I've never been beautiful. I've been told I'm pretty, and on more than one occasion a friend has suddenly proclaimed, with a level of shock in their voice, "Wow, Tam... you are really gorgeous." I liken this to them seeing past the fat and realizing that, somewhere under the blubber, there is a face structure that could be striking given the chance to actually make an appearance. And I cannot lie- sometimes I look at certain pictures of myself, like my profile picture on here, and think, "Man, I really could be amazingly beautiful, I think..."

Some might say, "You're beautiful now! Stop this nonsense!" I've had a number of people in my life get incredibly uncomfortable when I make light of the fact that I'm fat. Like anyone, fat or skinny, I struggle at times with comparing myself to others and thinking the nasty little, "If only I..." The thought that follows is always an empty, "Then life would be perfect." But life will never be perfect! Even if I were a marathon running size four with more money in the bank than I could spend (and AIDS and cancer and hunger and poverty and abuse were abolished) and my husband and I had amazing sex 5 times a day and never argued... even THEN life would still not be perfect. Life is painful, and difficult. There are great days, sure, but there's also heartache. So while I can't deny the occasional thoughts slipping in where I wish I had an abdomen like that girl's, I really am comfortable with who I am, issues and all.

Don't get me wrong: I MUST lose weight. Weighing 346 pounds will continue to suck the opportunities from my life and will eventually kill me. But my worth and value is not diminished because I'm fat. My worth is in Jesus. It's that simple. It's ok to admit I'm fat and to talk about it! It's ok to admit that, sure I look pretty sometimes, but that as I lose weight I will get more and more physically attractive. I could actually be beautiful. I can only dream about what my jaw and chin might look like when they get some definition. My eyes will look even bigger, and I'll have a neck! Plus, I don't want to be skinny (and my husband has all but begged me to never be skinny), but when I get down to the size 12 range, be that where my body can safely go, I'm going to have some kicking curves! Ah, what the heck- kick ASS curves! I really love the word ass. I don't know why. You can love Jesus and say ass occasionally, contrary to popular belief.

All of that said, even at a size 12 with a lovely jawline and only 1 chin (ONE chin- can you imagine?) I'm not sure that I'll ever feel like a "beautiful" girl. My husband will never be the guy in the tight shirt (I've tried, but he hates them and feels incredibly awkward... such is life) and I'll never wear make-up daily. I like to wear it now and then, and it feels good to look pretty, but I like sleep more. The thing is, I have always been the fat girl. Always. If you look at my first and second posts, I wasn't always obese, but I was never "little". I look at some pictures when I thought I was really fat and wish I could be there again, but never in my life have I been the small one. I wasn't always the biggest person around, but never have I been the smallest or even average. I hope to own my own physical beauty, grateful for what I have (not in a manner in which I think I am better or worse looking than anyone else), but I just cannot envision ever feeling like I am a beautiful person that captures people's attention.

I see this happen on The Biggest Loser. I have to note here that I simply cannot wait to see how everyone looks tonight! But I remember kind of wanting to punch Ali when she talked about how fat her arms were, and I saw no jiggle in them. I mean, hello, my arms are nearly as big as her flippin' waist! But she was trying to reconcile what we all see outside with who she's always been both inside and out. I kind of hate her for how amazing she looked last week, and I can't even imagine what she'll look like tonight. I can't identify with looking as amazing as she does, but I can fully empathize with trying to figure out how to no longer see the fat girl when you look in the mirror. Last year I lost 50 pounds, with minimal effort (which is SO annoying), and I could only think about how I was still too fat. I never celebrated my progress, which is why I put it all back on. And I never allowed myself to face my issues, namely never admitting food addiction.

That's why this time is different. I have finally realized that I'm ok with never being one of the "beautiful" people, and that even if other people see me as one I'll probably never quite feel like one. I'm ok with embracing who I am as I am, but working to continually recognize that food can no longer be my god. Comfort can no longer be my god. Hiding myself under fat as a means of protection can no longer be my god. A touchy issue the Lord's bringing to the surface is that having "my time" is asinine and that I place that up as an idol in my life. Jesus Christ alone is my God, and it's ok to own the beauty He's given me on the outside- I need to work hard to let His work be shown, as opposed to my work of obesity which has covered up and hidden His work of creating me in His image. I don't want this process to just be about the outside, though- I want the spiritual and emotional process to continue to be the catalyst for the physical changes.

I ended up likening this post more to me, and my issues, than really delving into the world of beautiful people... but that's good, because to be fair, who am I to speak on something which I know nothing about? I do know the world of fat people, and my hope is that my honesty and vulnerability will encourage others in this battle just as the support I've been able to find has encouraged and inspired me.

On that note, welcome to all of the Healthy You Challenge (hereon to be referred to as HYC) folks! I'm pumped to find an even greater support system through you! Upward and onward, no?

I do believe that's the first time I have ever said "upward and onward" in my life. Weird. Besides, we want the scales to go down. So... no more cheesy sayings. Just keep pressing on. Keep on keeping on. Don't let that pedal off of the metal.

I'm such an ass sometimes! Sha-ZAM!