Body Language

I’m just starting to return to normal, body image-wise.  Starting to remember that I’ve lost a lot of weight, and know how to dress appropriately for my figure, and look halfway decent.  That I can be attractive to a male of the species, and I really only need one.

I was traveling in Jamaica with my mother and sisters.  I was, by far, the largest of the group, and also the most married and settled.  Not only was I not cute enough to attract a certain type of attention, but I also was apparently sending out vibes that I didn’t want to.  This was fine in the moment, but after several days, I was becoming more and more aware of my own size.  Just tall and round and… me.   (Continuing photographic proof, albeit in limited amounts since I was mostly holding the camera, on my travel blog.)

But now I’m home, with a husband quite interested in my me-ness.  And willing to engage in the sorts of activities necessary to continue on our quest to create another member of the population.  With a box full of too-big clothes waiting to be donated.  There are ways in which returning to reality isn’t so terrible.