I realized a long time ago that I underestimate myself. I have little faith in what I’m capable of doing and even less motivation if it’s something having to do with my personal life.
But for the first time in years, I did something positive for myself: Today I met my first big weightloss goal.
And in typical Amanda fashion, I went straight to a tattoo parlor to celebrate. But don’t worry, I didn’t get more ink (yet). This time I got a piercing, one I’ve missed for many years.
In 2008, I took out my belly button ring after what seemed like the 1,000th person asked how many months along I was in my pregnancy. The problem with this: I wasn’t pregnant and had never been pregnant. I had one hell of a booze gut and was out of shape, but that question (which was asked in front of about 20 people mind you) did me in.
That night I took out my belly button ring and threw out all my jewelry so I wasn’t tempted to put it back in.
I told myself when I began this journey, I’d get re-pierced when I hit the first major goal (it changed a few times). And today was the day.
The creepy clamp
The piercer getting it done
All done
It’s been a long time since I’ve been OK with my midsection, or how I look in general, but I’m so very glad to say that for the first time in years, I don’t hide from mirrors. Realistically, I should probably walk away from them more but even when I’m talking to my boss in her office, I catch myself staring in it.
I never thought I’d be that vain, but what did I know?
It’s funny how much my confidence is associated with my appearance. I know there’s so much more to life than that. I know I’m at least reasonably intelligent and that I’m good at my job and that I am capable of being a good person when I’m not in bitch mode. But for me, half of holding your head up high is being able to look folks in the eye, and I can’t do that when I’m uncomfortable with my body.
But each day I’m holding my head a bit higher, and looking in the mirror a little bit more.
