Ripples in the Pond...

And no, that's not a euphemism for what happens to the cellulite on my thighs as I walk. I'm talking about how one change can branch out to affect one's entire being.

Something that seemed huge, but in hindsight shouldn't have been as important as I let it be, has been removed from my life. In this particular case it was a member of the male species. Ladies, we beat it into our heads when we're single, but somehow forget it when we manage to snag the attention of a pretty boy in the hopes of keeping his attention. Our self-worth should not be tied to someone else's opinions. Especially if they are ridiculous. Especially when you finally confront them over the fact that they don't want anything to do with you because you're not a size four blonde, the only thing they can say in response to the confrontation is, "Blonde has nothing to do with it."

Let me back up a little here. I lived in El Paso for three years. I enjoyed three years of amazing self-esteem because the boys down there liked their girls a little thicker. I loved my curves. I loved the attention they got on the dance floor and even walking down the hall at school. And I let all of that go by the wayside in one bathroom conversation in a piano bar.

Suddenly I felt like crap because there are two numbers on my jeans size. I suddenly felt compelled to get rid of what was considered unsightly. Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I crumbled and limped off like a kicked puppy to do this shallow boy's bidding...I was pissed. Royally. I formulated plots to get even, I even contemplated buying him a Barbie doll with all sorts of tacky things like "Self-Esteem Sold Separately" and "Comes With Daddy Issues and Eating Disorder" written on the box. One thing I wasn't going to do was let his piss poor opinion of my appearance affect my self-perception.

But that's exactly what I did.

Well, after four margaritas a couple of weeks ago I had the conversation with him that I should have had six months ago. And after I cried my eyes out and swam a couple of laps in the self-pity pool, something amazing happened. Almost overnight all my body image issues disappeared. I like my curves again. I still want them slimmed down a bit, but there's no rush. Whereas before I was frustrated by a lack of progress, I'm much more inclined lately to accept the small victories. I see the six pounds I lost when I stopped drinking sodas as a pretty good step. I see actively wanting water and good food as points on the scoreboard. I feel better about myself, even though nothing has really changed.

And now, truly, anything I do is for me.