I’m sitting on the couch thinking about my impending surgery (boob job and tummy tuck) and I am watching my daughter play on the ground in front of me when, BOOM, I have and epiphany
e·piph·a·ny – “a sudden, powerful, and often spiritual or life-changing realisation that a person experiences in an otherwise ordinary moment.”
- How am I ever going to teach Mikaela to love her body as it is if her Mummy can’t do the same?
- How am I ever going to encourage her to accept and love the parts of her body that she doesn’t like without being a walking contradiction?
- If I go ahead with the surgery am I setting my daughter up for a future of body-hating and self-loathing?
- In 10 years time when she becomes a teenager will she want to be like her Mummy and have beautifully manufactured breasts and a flat stomach?
- Am I setting her up to chase an unrealistic goal of perfection?
- Will she place more value on her looks than what she achieves in life because Mummy has placed so much emphasis on her own ‘beauty’?
I was presented with a fork in the road and I needed to choose which path I was going to take. The decision wasn’t easy. I could go ahead and get the surgery done. I would have the body that I wanted but at what cost to Mikaela’s future? Or I could put Mikaela’s needs before my own and not go ahead with the surgery.
I chose Mikaela.
So where did this leave me? Right back to where I had been, stuck in a body that I didn’t love with no hope of recovery. There was only one place left for me and that was rock bottom. Things got worse than they had ever been. I hated my body more than I ever had.
You are disgusting, fat and ugly. My dark passenger was back, this time with vengeance.
As I sat there in my dark place with my dark passenger keeping me company, a little thought popped into my head. What if…? What if I could live with my body the way it looks now and be happy? Is this even possible?
As I picked myself up off the ground and wiped my tears I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked deep into my eyes and I heard some words of encouragement. It was the old Taz, the Taz that I knew and loved, it was the positive, happy-go-lucky Taz. And she simply said,
” You can do this”.