When you look at 'em, you can sorta see that thin person inside.

This morning, as I was getting ready, I was talking to DH in the bedroom.  He said something complimentary about my jean-clad ass, as he's wont to do:

"My ass?" I said.  "It's huge."

"Your ass is not huge."

"I have a fat ass.  I'm a fat girl."

"You are not a fat girl.  Between the ears maybe, but that's about it."

"Be careful," I told him.  "You might just trigger today's blog post."

If you've read my blog or followed me on Facebook for a while, you'll know I've lost 107 pounds in the last fifteen months.  The weight loss is slowing down dramatically, but I'm still (slowly) getting smaller.  I spend a good deal of time working out with my trainer or walking at the park or trying to reacquaint my chondromalacia-ailed knee with the elliptical machine.  I've gone from a size 24 to a size 12 in that time, from a 45% body fat to an almost 29% body fat. 

But I still have a big ass.  It's not so rounded and protruding—not a ghetto booty, though men who like that seem to like mine, too.  I have wide hips.  I have a large frame even for 5'11, and my Amazonian pelvis was quite adept at birthing the boys who are on target to hit 6'4 or taller. 

Part of it is genetic—I'm sure my mom and my aunt and my grandmother will all agree that babies got back.  Right now, there's all this extra skin from the weight loss, and my ass is starting to look like a Shar-Pei puppy.  Now that I'm close to my original goal weight, I'm beginning the process of interviewing plastic surgeons for some substantial body contouring.  The skin won't ever go away on its own, especially as I'm approaching forty; I can either live with it or get it all cut off.

I know five women who've had all or part of the procedures I'm considering, and they've all been very happy they did it.  There's something incredibly disheartening about losing the weight, about being so much stronger and healthier, and still not looking remotely like you want, even in the privacy of your own bathroom.  I try not to obsess over it or have unrealistic expectations of what a surgical body lift could or could not do for me. 

But there's still this issue that I will have this big, wide ass, no matter what.  Yes, it's much smaller than it was.  Two days ago I demanded that DH feel this hard lump at the top of it:

"That's your tail bone, Stephanie."

"Yes, yes!  But is it getting bigger?  I keep feeling it when I sit down on something hard.  Like a chair."

"That's because you have less ass to cushion it now."

"You're sure?  I'm not growing a tail am I?"

"No, Stephanie, you only wish you were growing a tail."

(Maybe that could be my new, second super power.  Huh.)

I will never, ever be a size 0 or 2.  My musculoskeletal system would eat itself alive to even attempt to sustain such a weight.  But my size 12 right now is probably more a size 10 (possibly a size 8) without the extraness of it all. 

I saw Tiff a couple of weeks ago, who poked my lingering Mommy bulge and said, "But it's so hard under there!"  Thank you, medicine ball crunches!  When I moved the extra flab on my thighs and showed her what it would like if it were all cut off, she said, "Yeah.  You should totally do that!"

DH says it doesn't matter to him, and most grown men I know are almost completely impervious to the imperfections women think are glaring back at them.  But it matters to me.  It's like this last step of this long, long journey, and I need to at least see what it might look like if I go down that path.  After meeting with the Plasticine Porters, I may decide that I'm not up for the pain and recovery of this kind of major surgery.  I know there will be substantial scarring, but I honestly think that's nothing compared to the emotional and psychic scars that will forever be with me, whether or not I go all Silence of the Lambs on myself.

Tiff and I have joked that I should Kickstarter a mini coffee table book (for small IKEA coffee tables) of my before and after pictures, from the original fat girl candid from July 2010 that initially kicked my ass into gear, right on through the pre- and post-op pictures.  Maybe I can get Ted Levine to come visit me in the recovery room for a tongue-in-chic photo for the dust jacket.  Maybe I can offer $1,000 donors an actual paper pattern, based on the Sharpie mark-ups of what's coming off.  (DH says he's happy to draw on me with a Sharpie if that's what it's all about.) 

Regardless of the size I end up, I think I'll always be a fat girl.  In my head.  There's a definite thing about being fat, a way of thinking and perceiving the world and framing yourself inside that.  I will always be self-conscious of how both men and women see me, of how I feel they're comparing me to others or themselves, or even how they're judging me by the size of my thighs.  I will always be apprehensive about eating in front of other people who don't know me extremely well, afraid that they will be mentally ostracizing me for my food choices.

I will always be horribly afraid of regaining this weight.  I know the odds of keeping it off.  I know that I will have to be hypervigilant for the rest of my life about what I eat and when I exercise.  I can't go more than a day or two without paying very close attention, logging my activity in my online journal, and making a mental note of how I feel in my own skin. 

Don't get me wrong: I think curves are hot.  I think voluptuous women are just damn sexy.  I don't mind having curves, in theory—it's just that I don't want them to be squiggly. 

Comments

[Randy Roddam]

I am proud of you Steph and I am sure Don is too! My wife had lap band surgery in 2008 and has lost 140lbs. She has had to work at it too, but looks "so" good now, as you do too! Like the saying goes "use it or lose it"! I just know you will, seeing the satisfaction you get from seeing yourself and hearing from others how great you look since you lost it all! Looking great my friend and keep up the hard work!!!! Randy R.

[Rebecca Derden]

This world is obsessed with body image, especially women. We ate taught that Barbie is our perfect/ normal figure from a very young age. Even after kids, the marvelous Barbie is the same size and shape. I am now certain that every woman battles her body, especially after kids. Don't be ashamed by your battle scares of glory- extra skin. It shows you once where big but have over come to your skinny self. That being said, confidence is key and you need to feel comfortable in your own skin. This time literally. If that means surgery, suck up the recovery time! The extra confidence will be worth it in the long run. I would also say on flip side that you may still not be pleased after surgery with the results. If no surgery, it will be a constant reminder to stay fit, and not go back to old habits. And if the normal of gaining it back does happen then no wasted money:) I think you look great, if not a little skinny. ( but that's partly my own Barbie issue) We will support you either way, and love you very much!

[StephQJ]

It's weird, because I'm really not trying to meet any societal expectation. I know I will never be a swimsuit model. I will always be a big Amazon, with cellulite and stretch marks. But there's a weird disjoint between not seeing yourself at all as an appropriate reflection of how you feel. In clothes, I'm pretty happy with everything. I'll show you what out of clothes looks like next time I see you. :P

[Glinda Cauthorne]

You're right, voluptuous women can still be sexy with firm bodies. Some of my friends weigh about the same as you, and they are very attractive! They don't try to lose weight. They just keep their figure so the skin wouldn't look flabby and unattractive.