Sunday, September 16, 2007
I can count on the snarky humor of web-comics (see sidebar) to give me what I need to write.
Between you, me, and Jesus. And the other people who read this, I am feeling pretty iffy on how the whole "me re-meeting Dennis's family after four years" thing is going down. I'm sure I've mentioned it. See, back in 2003, I was like a dream size 10. Oh man, I miss those days. I was also really sick and having some serious depression issues and always getting things like seizures and infections... but oh how I took my waistline for granted. Anyway, even then I felt fat. Because in Argentina, the women are all a size 7 and under. And in Chile, they might find you a size 9.
I mean, then it wasn't so bad. And my obsession with various junk foods over the past year especially hasn't been so helpul. And I keep thinking "stop it. Your mother in law is not shallow. His family loves you." blah blah blah. Dennis loves me and thinks I'm beautiful. And when I am with him, I feel beautiful. But his ex-wife was a freakin' underwear model. Yes, she was a model 15 years ago pre-babies. And yes, I cheer inside because I've "beat her" on the age card (yes! I've got NO wrinkles!!!). Dennis doesn't understand why there is this part of me that I'm trying to kill off, that can't help but feel like I'm competing with his ex-wife. I don't even know what I'm competing for or if I'm competing by myself. I'm the one Dennis is married to. I'm afraid in part, that people will see "fat" and think "weakness of character" even though that's like the one thing I can think of that would really show weakness of character.
So I've been mentally beating myself up about this for about a month, and it's not easier when Dennis is gone and the apartment is super quiet and I've got my thoughts to wrestle with. I'm a good person. I'm genuine. And I genuinely like all of Dennis's family. I love his mom and I love the girls and I love the quirks of the chilean family that is so close and yet so distant. I love his family. And I'm worthy of their love and respect. So I need to leave the self-destructive-thinking Erin at home in Malibu. With the heavy shoes.
Prayers for me, that I love myself. And that I pat myself on the back for a change, instead of beating myself up. And prayers that even though I will probably be so nervous about seeing everyone, that I can relax once we've seen each other again because they are excited to see me and don't care about my cellulite. It's not like I'm going in a bikini.
(Seriously, this whole blog-tangent started because I was lying in bed thinking "It's a 13 hour flight to Chile. God, the first thing I'm going to need when I get off the plane is gonna be a diet coke and some of those Chilean bon-bons...")