But the reality was: I was eons away from having the confidence to carry my new and improved thinner self with the swagger of a swimsuit model. I still felt powerless over the negative self-talk that told me I wasn't good enough.
Losing weight hasn't been something that has made me unbreakable and invincible, as I thought it would. I hasn't made me any more "normal" (anyone who knows me will tell you that I am four continents removed from normal!). It also hasn't defined my sexual identity, caused me to look at myself and think "bombshell!" every morning, or made me any more equipped to cope with the stresses of love and intimacy. Diary Of A Former Fat Girl: Sex And The Scale
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What it has done is empowered me and helped me to be healthy and more physically confident, which are valuable. Losing weight didn't heal the stretch marks on my belly or my wounded self-esteem that is still recovering from the past, but then, how could it?
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In the five years since my slimdown, I've been working on that supermodel swagger—though it certainly doesn't involve doing squats and lunges at the gym. Instead, it's been a practice in accepting myself and in learning to mute the negative chatter in my head that wants me to tie my self-woth to my jeans size. It's a choice. One, I realize, I've had the power to make all along.