So, I've been intending to write some articles and submit them to the SOM magazine- this one is my first (actually third draft of the first one.) Here we go!
What you need to know about me is that I’m fat. In my head, I’m fat. Circus lady fat.
I’ve always been fat.
In my family, growing up, fat was the worst thing you could be named. It conveyed laziness, stupidity, incompetence, and gluttony. When I was just an infant, I remember being appended with the fat label when I was in a bassinet.
As a child, looking at pictures of myself now, I can see that I was never fat. To be sure, I wasn’t some skinny kid – but, I was never FAT. Maybe a little plump every now and again. But never fat. I wasn’t, however, athletic or active. I was more like my mother; a reader, a reflector, a thinker. I did engage in family chores; mowing the lawn, washing cars, cleaning the house – but you could never find me outside playing ball, running after other kids, or climbing trees.
For that, I was repeatedly named “fat.” And, I accepted and owned that name. I owned it like The Donald owns “Trump.”
As I grew into myself in high school, I became active in dance and drama; I was a cheerleader and a stage performer. I was a multiple disco dance contest winner. I had a 32” waist line, and wore the skin tight polyester dress slacks of the era. I felt like I looked good.
Except in my head. I was still fat. And, I had the external voice of my father’s family telling me “you’re getting a little chunky, aren’t you?” “Those pants look awfully tight.” “Gaining a little weight lately?”
And I owned it. Every word of it. I had a mental image of being fat, and when they told me I was packing on the pounds, I felt every ounce of the additional weight that I saw myself as having. I felt ashamed and uncomfortable.
I went to graduate school, and was still quite active doing things I loved to do – singing and performing, going out and dancing. I spent several years vacillating between feeling like I was fat and unattractive and feeling bulletproof and handsome.
In 1985, I finished grad school, and stopped doing nearly all of the things that I loved doing in life. I stopped being active. I gained ten pounds. I bought new, bigger clothes and started really owning my nature. I gained ten more pounds.
Over the next ten years, I gained ten pounds each year. With each additional stone, I didn’t feel fatter, I felt just the same. I was outwardly manifesting my mental picture of myself.
I refused to look at myself in the mirror. I stopped buying attractive clothing. I started dressing in duller colors and frumpier shapes. My body size got uncomfortable. Airline seats became more challenging. Ease of movement was a memory. I grew depressed. I now wouldn’t allow myself to be photographed.
I was MISERABLE. I felt like a whale. All of my friends, and there were many, kept telling me I was handsome, albeit heavy. It meant nothing, because – in my head – I was HUGE. I felt repugnant, and unable to date or participate in social events.
Even though I was working with a practitioner, and had started attending SOM classes, I always carried the burden of my size around in my head. I went straight through four years of SOM classes. Now that I look back at the homework from those classes, I do not see any suggestion that I felt that I could make a difference in my planetary dimensions. I never constructed a treatment to correct either my size or the pain, embarrassment or resentment that I felt. The fat was permanent.
However, my ongoing training as a SOM practitioner began to come into play. Explaining to classes and to my study group about creation of powerful mental and emotional equivalents caused me to closely review my own thinking and my long held belief in my body consciousness.
First, I was able to recognize that my long held body beliefs were not what I wanted. Next, I was able to see that my manifestation was only the outward expression of how I always FELT inside. Then, I was making choices that reinforced the emotional state that supported the mental belief that I was fat – guilt at eating, guilt at not exercising, guilt at my food choices, frumpy clothing choices, withdrawing from attending parties and social events, sheltering myself at home to hide from presenting my fat self to the world.
In August, I attended a family reunion. They’re obsessed with body size, food intake and the fit of their clothing. Having done my mental work in advance, I was clearly able to see the origins of my own self identity and found the humor in the family plague.
I shared my experience with my study group, and used it as an example of how we have subtle, but powerful, mental equivalents going out into Law, and how it is inevitable that we get what we believe. Brother, that was proven beyond a doubt by my experience. I saw, and explained that we had to examine each of our automatic actions and ask “do I want to feel the same way, or do I want to do something different?” Do I pick up the ice cream, and feel guilt and fatter before I even dish it up, or do I make a different choice to support a different belief? We have to work in Universal mind, in our individual mind, and in the Body, which I like to call the tactile world to roll back these beliefs that we have owned so deeply.
So, my size hasn’t changed. I’m the same that I have been for the last five or so years. But, I’ve been set free. I don’t hear that internal voice screaming at me “you’re FAT.” When I put on my clothes, I’m still not pleased, but the internal torture isn’t there.
And, dare I say it? My trousers seem to be looser lately.
Copyright 2006
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