It could be the fact that my pants didn’t fit as well as they do or that the horror that is Valentine’s Day is upon us, but lately I have felt as sorts of insecure. For me, insecurity is internalized and compartmentalized. However, when I feel insecure about something it seems to take over my thoughts. I become preoccupied about my inadequacy in areas and ruminate on them.
Lately, it has been my weight. I know I should lose weight. I know I should go to the gym. I know I should eat more salads and less rice krispie treats. I know. My knowledge is losing to my will. I have been a comfortable size 16 for years now, originally an 18. I went shopping with my sister this weekend and just could not squeeze my body into a 16 and we all know how that story goes. While, some women can’t fit into their jeans and immediately dive into a cleanse, dieting, starvation, over-exercising mode; I dive into Niko Nikos and eat a gyro and hummus and bread and french fries. Of course, I regretted it, but I don’t stop it. I don’t stop because….honestly I don’t know? I’m not a binge eater. I don’t eat compulsively. I eat emotionally. Even when the problem is eating I still eat. I have always been sensitive about my body. I have health issues attached to this body, and even though my body is not a reflection of who I am; it is. And it sucks because it does not always reflect the way I see myself. I could promise myself that tomorrow I am going to eat right and wake up early to exercise and not eat a rice krispie treat, but I don’t think that will happen.
Tied into my weight insecurity is my relational insecurity. In my head, I know my body is a factor, but it is not the only factor or the most important one. I have been this size for a while, and to you who don’t know me picture this: 5’9″ African-American female, short black natural hair, weights 230(on a really good day) evenly distributed, a bit bigger on the top than the bottom. This is honestly how I look. While. I can look back on my past at the guys that I have liked that have reciprocated my feeling have been of assorted body types (tall and lanky, football player build, average) for some reason I still cannot get it through my brain that guys will like me. Why? Well, I don’t know. The reasons vary sometimes. I feel like for the most part guys like their women the same way they liked them 60 years ago: quiet, timid, submissive, caretakers. The only addition is better conversationalist. I am not those qualities. I am bold, bordering brash. Especially with men who assume that their place it above me and not beside me. I have no intention of trading any of my personality traits or character qualities for more approval from men. Yet, there are times I wish I was a little less of me and a bit more of something more appealing. Like, the weight thing though I am making no promises.
You know all this could be tied into several factors. The weight could just be the consequence of holidays and sitting in an office for the past two weeks. The man issue it two-part. I have two men in my life right now. Both are younger than me, and I change their diapers. Honestly, I am not even in a position to meet guys. I foolishly thought seminary would open doors, but in one class there is only one guy and in the other there are three and they are all married. LOL.
You know though, I have spent the last two paragraphs documenting my current insecurities, but maybe I should focus on what makes me feel secure. God loves me. My mom and my sister care about me and love me immensely. I got to see my sister this week. I live in an amazing neighborhood with people who respect and care about me, my home, my co-parent, and my kids. I will have a job tomorrow. I will wake up tomorrow to four really good kids. I have the vast ability to help others and do good in this world.
God, straight up, sometimes, it is real difficult accepting Your plans for me without knowing You plans for me. I literally don’t know what I am doing. I am working hard, but sometimes I feel like I am not doing enough. On top of that I feel insecure about myself and want to hide in my house and never run out. I don’t know what this feeling is or where it came from, but help. I need Your help in whatever fashion that may present itself. Like a child clutches a teddy bear to comfort and protect them, I hold fast to You. Please be my strength.