Unconditional Love

I flew to Ohio and visited my childhood best friend (my sister), her husband and my new baby niece for a few days. Anytime that I was awake and the baby wasn't nursing I pretty much held her. I've held babies plenty of times before. If there is a baby around chances are they are with me. This time though there was something different. I've never done overnights with these new babies before. I was "with her" for two and a half days. We went shopping, we went for walks, read books (lots and lots of books) and we just relaxed. I was perfectly content with just sitting on the couch and holding her. Staring at her and just loving her. She loves me unconditionally, babies love you unconditionally. 

Back home at the end of class each instructor will lead the class in hugging them self and saying love yourself love yourself. Those words were just words until about a year ago. I would say them when I was taking the class and when I stared teaching classes those words were, (I know it sounds bad) just words. 

April 25, 2013, the day I hit ONEderland, the day that I knew I had done something amazing, I had lost 40% of my original body weight, was the turning of me loving myself. I had qualified to have skin removal surgery. My arms bothered me. I hated looking at them in the mirror at class and I hated to think that others were looking at them, not only that but it hurt. It hurt to have all the extra skin flapping around and pulling. It was a mental, emotional and physical struggle, not to mention a finical decision as this was considered cosmetic surgery. I had to be ok with what I was going to be doing. I was going to be going from the excess skin to scars that ran from my elbow to my armpit. Surgery day came and I was wheeled into the OR. I looked at the Dr and said, "Make my arms skinny doc," to lighten the mood.

In the days following surgery my arms were pretty much wrapped all the time to keep the swelling down. I returned to teaching school days later, although I didn't have any physical pain I was exhausted. I had bought long sleeve shirts to return to school-not because I was self conscious in any means, but in order for my students to not be focusing on the scars and on what they needed to be doing. 

One month later we had an open house and I was leading off the warm up to kick it off. I stood in front of the class and got ready to hit play. I looked at myself in the mirrors. It was the first time I was looking at myself full on, leading a class. My mind went first to my arms. I looked at them and was ready to see what they could do. It was surreal looking at them and not seeing extra skin flap and feel that extra pull. It was the start of me not just loving myself, but loving what I saw on the outside.  

As the months went on my sleeve length became shorter and before to long it was just a matter of fact. Feelings of focus on my scars came back again at the end of the school year when I began interviewing in other districts for a new job. I had cute dresses to wear, but I wanted and felt as though I needed to wear a jacket to cover my scars so that the committee would hear me and not be focused on my scars. I got a second interview and I searched for another outfit to cover my arms-I had to teach a lesson in front of 18 kindergartners and, let's face it, kids are honest. Not finding one, I settled for a shirt the would cover a good portion and went from there, and you know what? The kids didn't say a word. The saw me not my arms. (I eventually had a third interview and accepted the job!)


I had been in Ohio for over a day before I said you haven't seen me since I had my surgery and I held up my arms. My sister didn't even notice it and I'm sure my little niece didn't. The more time goes on the more I forget I have those scars. When I look at them I am not ashamed or embarrassed, I am proud. Those are my battle scars. They remind me how far I have come.