Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  We all know this.  We've heard it a million times.  I often marvel at just how true that statement is.  Sometimes we apply it to pieces of art we see in museums, others to streamlined vehicles we see cruising down the road, and more often than not, we apply it to people.  Then comes into play the whole, don't judge a book by it's cover.  Yeah, that one gets me every time.  In fact, I am horrible at applying that one in my daily life.  Which then leads into stereotyping.  You see where I am going?  Ok, maybe not, because only my brain can be this convoluted, and non-stopping in it's thought process of how I perceive others, and how they perceive me.  Right?    Yeah, I didn't think so.  But I am sure you can now see why I had such a hard time with Philosophy in college, I could always see both sides of the argument and could never choose a side.  I am a wishy washy Libra, I freely admit that!

But back to beauty.  Even when I was huge, I believed I was pretty.  I felt like I had a pretty face, and I was attentive to my appearance, making sure everything was perfect from my hair and makeup, to my clothes and shoes.  Most of the time I felt attractive.  And to my husband, I guess I was attractive.  But to thousands of other men out there, I was invisible.  How strange is that?  Now, much lighter, I still pay the same attention to my hair, makeup, clothes, etc, but I am no longer invisible.  People actually make eye contact with me as I walk into work in the morning (I work in downtown Sacramento, CA, lets just say, sometimes we're not the friendliest folks), and smile and say good morning.  Maybe I am the one who is now looking up and into the faces of others, see how that focus shifted?  I was previously concerned that maybe others didn't feel me worthy of looking in the face, but honestly, I was probably the one who felt as if I wasn't worthy, and they didn't have an opinion one way or another.  And maybe they still don't have an opinion.  I don't really know.

Delusional.  I used to walk down the street, and see a guy looking at me, and I would always think he was thinking "Man, she is beautiful."  Looking back, wow, I doubt anyone was thinking that.  Now, I walk down the street, and because I have heard how beautiful I am from so many people in the last two years, I truly believe that men might actually be thinking that as I walk by. 

All of this goes back to those old cliche sayings we have heard all our lives.  Perception.  The glass is half full.  No, it is half empty.  The two I mentioned earlier.  How about, It's all in your head.  Yeah.  Changing my body hasn't changed the way I think.  I am still self conscious.  Still overly concerned about the opinions of others.  Still hyper aware of my size compared to others.  Those things are part of me.  I am not ashamed to admit that.  And honestly people, I am ok with my thought process.  Yes, some days I am more ok than others, but overall, I just have to admit that I am my harshest critic, and that is the way it should be.  So don't worry, I don't need further criticism of my thoughts, and perceptions, I am already internally arguing every side on my own. 

Can I just say, somedays I wish I was still fat!  I didn't have to try so hard.  Who cared if I had a saggy butt in my jeans?  Who cared that I always wore flat soled shoes?  Who cared if my jacket wasn't stylish?  NO ONE.  Thats who!

Now I have this internal pressure to dress nicer, wear heels, and make sure I am fashionably current.  I wear, what I call, a suck it in slip, which is basically a TIGHT swimsuit, underneath any semi-tight top I wear.  And it is so not comfortable!  I am wearing 3" heeled boots today, and MAN, my feet hurt!  My jeans are tight around the thighs, and I can't tell you how annoying that is.  My top is low cut, and I have been giving my coworkers an eye full all day.  What the heck?

Even at home when I am in my lounge clothes I still put pressure on myself to not wear my oversized, falling off comfy clothes, and try to stick to the ones that fit better, and are a bit more flattering.  At least I haven't taken to wearing a shaper at home too!  That WOULD be insanity.

Honestly, if I could wear black t-shirts, jeans, and converse every day I would be in heaven.  I'd accessorize accordingly, but would basically wear the same thing day in, day out.  Yeah, I know what you're thinking, that I really wouldn't be able to wear the same thing every day, and you'd be right, I'd go crazy, but a girl can dream, right???

We're having our holiday party here at work tonight.  I am in a dress, cardigan and tights.  Just used the ladies room only to find that I have a HUGE run in my hose.  Huge.  But I am not stressing, I am wear tights/nylons they sell at CVS!  WHAT??  I can actually buy a piece of clothing from the drugstore?  YES I CAN!  WOO HOO!  Party saved!  :)

Ok, thats all for today.  Maybe I'll see if someone will take my picture so you all can see how fabulous I look.  ;-)

In my head I see a fat, round faced woman.  When I look in the mirror I see a thin, bony faced woman.  Which one is the real me?

In my childhood bedroom I had two huge mirrored doors on my closet, and in my parent's bedroom they have two bigger mirrored doors on their closet.  I grew up surrounded by mirrors.  I had to do the cursory whole body check every morning.  I thought everyone did.  I stared at all my imperfections, lumps and curves.  I hated every roll and pudgy spot.  When I moved out of my parent's house I moved into an apartment with mirrored closet doors in the kitchen (they housed the washer and dryer).  The bedrooms had no mirrors.  So I would check myself out as I ran out the door each morning.  But since I had a roommate I had no privacy when analyzing myself, so the examinations were fewer and less intrusive.  I slowly got out of the habit of staring myself down.  I gained weight.  I don't want to say it was because I didn't have a mirror to stare into, or because I had an overweight roommate, who like me, enjoyed food, so we ate ourselves sick constantly.  But I think the lack of a mirror, and the lack of an overbearing, food gawking mom helped me along on my path to morbid obesity.

Eventually, through multiple moves I finally ended up in the house I am in now.  There are no mirrors.  I had one vanity mirror over my dresser I would use to "check" myself out in the morning, but it only saw down to my knees.  I never had a full view of myself.  And I continued to eat, and I continued to believe I was fine, I mean my husband would have left me if I wasn't still attractive to him.  I knew the scale kept climbing, but I choose not to see it.  I thought I was fine.  And apparently so did he.  But I wasn't.  I was over 350 pounds, a mother of two young boys, and the wife of a man who didn't "see" that his wife was so big. 

After my surgery the weight melted off.  I took joy in the little things I was able to enjoy that I never knew I missed.  Like being able to sit in any chair I wanted to.  In being able to see and feel my collar bones.  Like being able to see a clear jawline.  Like being able to sit in a movie theater seat next to my husband and to have a smaller profile than him.  Or to be able to walk the three flights of stairs to my car and not be out of breath.  I felt those changes, and they were exhilarating.  They were encouraging.  I did eventually have a mirror installed in my bathroom, it isn't huge, but it is a tall mirror so I can see the whole me.  A whole me that keeps shrinking. 

And as you can see from my photo gallery, I have used that mirror to capture my weight loss.  But I can honestly say that I never stare at myself anymore.  I never truly stop and stare, and take in the face that now belongs to me.  I still see the chubby cheek, jawline lacking fat face I once was.  The woman who wasn't beautiful because she could never be more than "cute" because of all the pudge packed onto her face.  The woman who was so huge that she eclipsed her husband when standing next to him.

Tonight I stared at my face in the mirror.  I was crying for a million different reasons, the loss of my both grandfathers in the last 4 years, the loss of my husband's grandmother, the decline of my two remaining grandmother's, and quite a few other things, and as I cried I stared myself down.  I can honestly say I didn't recognize the woman staring back at me.  The woman I feel I am is pudgy, lumpy, bloated, and chunky.  The woman I saw was thin, with beautiful curves, a stunningly perfect face with smooth skin, a beautiful jawline.  A woman with sculpted shoulders, and thin, graceful fingers.  Why does the mirror show me someone so different from the woman I see in my head?  Now I find myself crying for a whole other flood of reasons. 

I have worked my ass off (literally) over the past two years.  And yet I have yet to truly embrace the woman I  have become.  It is like one step forward, two steps back.  I am amazed, shocked, and scared.  Who is Jenci?  Tonight, at this moment, I don't know.  I don't know who I am, the fat faced "cute" girl, or the "beautiful" thin faced woman I see in the mirror.