Damn girl, that's a lot of fattitude

A couple of weeks ago Kevin and I went to Barnes and Noble and I found myself in tears.

Now, typically we go to B&N with a researched list of what books to buy. We both really enjoy reading. We decided to really be frisky and go free ballin. We’re livin the thug life, what can I say? We got there, got Starbucks, and split up. I wandered and wandered. And, like always, I found myself in the Self Help / Self Improvement / Mental Health section. I find it all very fascinating. As I thumbed through the books I paused and decided I wanted to find a book on Self Love. You know, a book about loving all of my flaws. A book about being 100% in love with what I see in the mirror and loving who I am for me. Embracing every “imperfection” as just another wonderful thing about me.

So, I started looking in the Self Help section and found nothing. Every book was about how to fix you, change you, be different, be anything but who you are. Surely, I’m in the wrong section.

I moved to the beauty/style section thinking that there must be a book here about embracing your own beauty. Nope, all I saw was books like, French Women Don’t Get Fat and How to Look 10lbs Lighter. Those are real titles. Those are real books. That’s beauty?

I know these books exist, but my God, can’t we get them in stores?

I found myself thinking about my niece and my maybe someday daughters. I thought about them being impressionable as they enter puberty. I thought about them trying to find resources about loving themselves and only finding books on how they need to change because they’re not enough. I was heart broken. Seeing every single book about how I am not good enough, but read this book and I’ll be better, be skinnier, be happier, be prettier was hard for me – I can only imagine it for them.

So, I stood there, visibly shaken with tears. Kevin found me as I stood there pretty upset and asked what was wrong. I showed him the lack of books. His response, “Guess it’s time for you to write a book.” I laughed and smiled, but said, “I can’t write a book when I’m the one that needs help.”  This thought has consumed me since then.

My mom gave me Fat!SO? Because You Don’t Have to Apologize for Your Size when I was a teenager and this book is what made me okay with who I was. I was surprisingly confident in HS and really didn’t take shit from anyone (imagine that). I remember reading this book over and over again. This book was a bible for me. Oddly enough, my confidence only took a turn for the worse when I started my weight loss journey. Side note: my mom is a rock star for giving me that book. It changed my life. It’s time to dig this baby back out.

I’m focusing on my body being a machine and not a “goal weight.” With this, I’ve found a new sense of confidence. I understand the correlation of weight loss and performance, but for some reason it’s working for me to focus on performance over numbers. Don’t get me wrong though, it still rattles me when the scale doesn’t budge, but I’m getting better about it.

Anyhow, I’ve really spent the last couple of weeks working on me. Working on my confidence. Working on making myself number one and focusing on my happiness. This is no easy feat.We all struggle with it.

We say things to ourselves that we’d NEVER let anyone say. Why is this? Why is it okay for me to say, “Dammit, Danielle. You are so stupid. You never should have done that. What the fuck is wrong with you?” or “OMG – Look at your thighs. Seriously. That shit is disgusting. Cover it up, Shamu.”? Because honestly, if ANYONE else said that to me I’d flip out. I’d lose my shit like nobodies business. So, I’ve been working on only saying things to me that I’d be okay with anyone saying.

With that being said, I am straight up feeling myself again. These curves? Yes, please. Doing my makeup everyday? Yes, please. Putting outfits together? Yes, please.

Taking the time to make me number one? Every single damn day, y’all. What about you?