Picture this…

What if you just pretended you were beautiful.  Even if you didn’t believe it.  Just acted on the assumption that your body and face were beautiful to look at and everyone loved it. How free would life feel?

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My attempt at beach pin-up. Feels pretty freeing to pretend I am beautiful.

 

I tried that. Not intentionally really…I just kind of gave up worrying because I’m old. I’m sick with fibro and I am tired. I’m tired of pulling at my clothes and swimsuits to cover my fat etc. I’m tired of being hot when I go out in the sun because I’ve covered my fat so much. I’m exhausted at a beauty regimen that is sort of simple compared to most of my friends. I am pretty much exhausted at life most of the time. So, I just gave up over vacation.  I took a vacation from caring about fat or my double chin or my red face or any other perceived faults.

I think I was encouraged by my sister a bit. She oozes beauty out of her pores. She is young, blond, vibrant with dazzling blue eyes that are unusually shaped. It gives her an allure I can’t describe.  She is so unbelievably beautiful and I’m all the time being told she looks like me. That reflection, seeing her sometimes when I make a certain face in the mirror, has made me feel beautiful and young. Having her close really makes that connection hum for me.

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Isn’t she the stuff of magic?

I’ve always thought highly of myself, a relatively good self-esteem, but I’ve always been a really good fat person too. I covered myself so not to offend someone, from even before I was truly fat. I made sure my “faults” were covered. I never wore stripes. I covered my legs for the most part. My belly hasn’t seen the light of day since I was fourteen. I wear a skirt with my one-piece swim suit, and usually wear a cover up until I can slink into a pool unnoticed. When I read about the body positive movement I was behind it all! I was like “You go girl! Wear that bikini!!! That woman is a badass, but I could never do it.” I would look down at my fat belly and think “No, not my belly, my belly is not for public consumption.” I believe that I should be free to wear what I like. I believe anyone should be free to wear what makes them feel good. I just didn’t think I was at the place where I could put that belief into practice.

 

The body positivity movement is inspiring, but also defending it can be exhausting. There are people who just don’t understand how horrible it is to hate yourself, or maybe they do? I like to think that they truly believe they are trying to help, even if what they do can harm the fat people in their lives. I like to think the best of people. In my own life, I try to not discuss weight with my loved ones. I get so angry and upset. I am tired of explaining that I have to be in control of my body. I have to feel good about my body in order to provide self-care. Why would I care for myself if I felt my body was not worth the time? We want women to care for themselves, don’t we? I want the women in my life to care for themselves, especially my sister. She is so young and energetic. I want her to think of her body as the beautiful miracle it is. To do that, I want her to see me loving and caring for my body. It may not affect her self-esteem seeing me love myself, but I can always hope. As an older, plus size woman I have learned to actively love myself. I take time to maintain my body and I am learning to cast off all those social conventions that have made me feel uncomfortable with certain pants, stripes or swim suits.

This week between learning about the body positive movement, my sisters influence, and the fact that my fibromyalgia flared I decided to love myself. I decided to cast away all self-doubt and just swim, walk, and laugh with abandon. My sister helped me pick out shorts. I wore shorts in public for the first time in years. My mayonnaise legs basked in the sunlight while looking for whales in the Atlantic Ocean. I ran in with my fat arms waving in the breeze and didn’t care. I was too tired with my body aches to pull down my swimsuit over my thick thighs. Did we get shunned? Made fun off? No. Actually, a woman came over and offered to take pictures of us. She said she was enjoying watching us laugh and looking like we were having so much fun. She wanted to help us commemorate these moments. It was a pretty amazing day at the beach.

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Don’t we look beautiful happy?

The last day we were there my sister was kind of bummed we didn’t get to swim in the ocean again and we usually try to do something a little crazy and life affirming when we get together, so I suggested we get into the ocean with our full clothes on. I was wearing leggings, an exercise bra and kind of a fancy shirt. Right up until we got to the water, I was going to wear my shirt because I had always said, “Never my belly.” At the last minute after placing my purse on a rock, and giving my husband my phone to take pictures, I triumphantly whipped off my shirt and bared my belly in my exercise bra. I just dove in and laughed at the wildness of running into the ocean almost fully clothed. I was having too much fun splashing and laughing with my husband and sister to care about how my white fat belly looked in the sun. Again was I laughed at? Pointed at? I don’t think so. I wasn’t paying attention. Frankly, I didn’t care one last bit.

I felt triumphant. I was bonding with my family and I was not ashamed. It has made me want to take care of my body even more. I was exhausted and sore after. I don’t want to be exhausted and sore while on vacation anymore so I am working even harder. It isn’t shame that works, it is capability that inspires me. Please listen, if you feel like only shame works. It doesn’t. Living is a pretty magnificent carrot. It’s hard living when you’re shrouded in shame.

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That’s right! That’s my beautiful belly.

Get It Together Doctors

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One of the bad days.

I have become a member of an online Facebook group for fibromyalgia sufferers. I started exploring the different avenues for support for people with fibro. We don’t have a support group in the Philadelphia area that I could find. I wanted to be around other people who know what I am going through. I was hoping that I would feel less alone on those days that I am in pain and can’t leave the house. I also was hoping to learn what those women and men who deal with fibromyalgia on a day to day basis did to ease their symptoms. I was looking for comraderie, sisters in arms, people fighting a fight together. That isn’t really what I found, yet.

Sometimes these chats seem like only people who are suffering together. They are encouraging, sympathetic, and lovely. We are all suffering. The thing about fibro is that we’d have a pretty pitiful march if we were going to battle. Most of us can’t walk very far at all. Most of us are in constant pain and feel nauseous and feverish. We feel like we are hung over AND have the flu. It’s not like we can usually muster up a rallying cry. It would come out like a sigh more likely. But I am still looking for a way to cope.

I’m not ready to be couch bound. I want to walk for hours-down streets I’ve never seen. I want to be able to fly without pain. I want to be able to do yoga for an hour without taking a two day break to recover, because Philly has free yoga on the pier. To do yoga by the water would be a dream.

I am not ready to give up on those dreams. I need to continually feel like I can do it. I need to know in my brain that it is possible for these things to happen someday-even if it is not true. I need to be able to strive for it. If I believed that it wasn’t possible I would probably curl up in a ball and give up. I desperately and deeply need the motivation.

I guess I am looking for someone to say this is working for me, you can too. Isn’t that such bullshit? No one is going to give me a get well quick story. This isn’t that kind of syndrome. Fibro is forever. I get that. They say that you can live with it. What exactly that looks like isn’t really clear. From the testimonies on so many fibro sites it seems dreary and hopeless. Most of my fibro sisters have spouses that don’t care enough to find out about their wives’ condition so they complain about their inability to perform tasks, their inevitable weight gain and they belittle the pain they’re in. Most of them have kids who are ungrateful, and employers that could care less. It is a sea of harshness in a world of people who should be treated with kid gloves. These people are in pain constantly, who still have to perform their lives, AND try to figure out how to medicate themselves.

Think about your mother. Everyone in the world who had a good mom, think about that mom. What if she had fibromyalgia. She would have never had time to figure out how to make her life easier. Most moms don’t have time to get their nails done or catch their own movie, less known go to physical therapy or read a book on fibromyalgia.  Fibromyalgia is predominantly a female syndrome so females are too busy building families and running the f*&Oing world to treat themselves to all the doctor’s appointments, or go to physical therapy twice a week, or a trigger therapy masseuse. I am extremely lucky; my partner is the most remarkable partner in the world. He is seriously amazing. Most women don’t have my privilege or my support.

I don’t work right now. It’s my turn to be at home because I worked while Brad went to school. So, I get to follow my dreams now. Part of that dream is to get healthy. I am working on that full time while also trying to get my writing going. It is unusual that any woman has the time I do to do the research, go to doctors and physical therapy, schedule workouts, meal plans, and supplements. Right now, I am extremely lucky for a fibromyalgia sufferer.

It is easy for me to have spunk. It is easier for me to get riled up, throw my fist in the air and say, “I will figure this out. I’m gonna live a good life!”

The big problem is that fibromyalgia has been around in some form since 1904 according to a government web site. They knew about it since then, but didn’t do an official study until 1981. The AMA didn’t recognize it until 1987. Do you think that it is a coincidence it took so long to get acknowledged on a disease that mostly affects women?

So, the medical community hasn’t done that great for these women. Most doctors don’t really give these patients a lot of options. I’ve been going to the doctors and physical therapists for over a year and it wasn’t until I picked up a book by Dr. Ginerva Liptan called The Fibromanual that I found out some information that is really helping me. No one else has explained the disease to me so clearly or why I need to do the things I do. Of course, The Fibromanual was written by a woman who also has fibromyalgia. That is how we get things done, right?

I’ve only been following her advice for two weeks and already I feel a little better. See these chats I have been observing on Facebook and other support group web sites only make me mad. It is another way that women are neglected in this society. I can forgive their partners for not knowing what fibromyalgia is, because I am still figuring it out and I am a dogged opponent even without a medical degree. I can forgive kids for being little ungrateful shits, because that’s what they are supposed to be, but I can not forgive doctors who get paid more than most of the population for not taking enough time to truly give these women relief. I recommend every doctor who has a general practice to read The Fibromanual and other books. Give the women who are sixty percent of the work force, and seventy percent of the home care, some attention please. Give them a fighting chance to get out of bed without pain.

To all my fellow sufferers,

I know your life is busy. I know sometimes this seems hopeless. It sucks. I feel it everyday. There is hope. Read up as much as you can and press your doctor to read up too. It is there job. Don’t let them get away with not knowing how to help you. That sucks. My first book recommendation is The Fibromanual. It even has a section you can hand your doctor. Know your body, and know that there is some relief out there. Try if you can to prioritize your health for a little while so that you can get a system down that will provide you with happy pain free days. Get help. The people that love you will realize you are worth the time you need to figure it out.

Danielle

And So It Goes…

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Isn’t he cute? He is super supportive and the reason I can take days off to recover in my pajamas. 

I am admonishing myself today because I am in my special soft pajamas and my softest sweater because I over did it yesterday. I did my yoga, my writing, and then I cleaned the kitchen and deep cleaned the refrigerator. I took out three trash bags from all the cleaning I did yesterday. I also washed the bathroom floor by hand because my hair just doesn’t come up with a mop. I was extremely excited when husband got home, but by the time we went to bed I could not move my head without groaning.

I am extremely lucky because my amazingly patient husband gave me a massage to loosen me up enough to go to sleep, but then this morning I woke up in full -just got hit by a mac truck- fibro mode. If you don’t have fibromyalgia I will remind you that it feels like when you have the flu, but you don’t vomit. You are sore all over, nauseous, and swollen in places. So basically it is like you have the flu but also got beat up last night. It’s a wonderful way to start the day, let me tell you.

So today I am sitting here watching Monday’s Dancing with the Stars and the fog in my head is coming and going. Right now, in a moment of mental clarity, I am wondering how long it will be before I learn my lesson. I want to manage my energy better. I feel like I make progress and then get excited and do too much. I get a little encouragement, and say I GOT THIS!!! I got this all the way to the couch. Dang it to hell. It is so frustrating. Now I have lost a whole day. I have lost an entire day to sitting around without any progress. I know I shouldn’t let it, but it pisses me off and makes me feel guilty. I know it shouldn’t but I keep going over where I went wrong and how I could have broken up tasks. Maybe I could have eaten better. Would that have made a difference? Should I have split up cleaning the fridge? Two shelves one day, the rest another? These are the questions I feel like all fibro people ask, am I wrong?

Managing your activities can be tedious. These are base activities that most humans have to do: cook, clean, walk, fold laundry. I have to dose them out like medicine. Too much medicine and I crash. Today is crash day.

Will I ever get it down? Will I ever learn? I doubt it. My mom has had fibromyalgia for years. At least once a month she is telling me about something she over did. This week she mowed the lawn and the next day her back hurt and she was out of commission. She hasn’t learned.

Also, hopefully my baseline for what I can do will improve if I keep working at it. I have to keep chipping at that line that I am not supposed to cross. I have to keep trying to move it forward. So, I guess that I will be having more days like this. By that logic, perhaps these days aren’t that bad.

I keep trying over and over to be more capable. I keep trying to push the limits of my abilities. That is a good thing. So maybe it was stupid to do too much too fast, to be excited when I feel good, and to fall for it again. This excitement (like look what I can do!) is contagious and insatiable sometimes. I want to feel normal, that is natural. I want to reach out to all those people with fibromyalgia and tell them not to feel bad when you make a mistake like this.

Fibromyalgia should be called baby steps. (Please excuse the What about Bob reference Bill Murray.) Baby steps to a clean kitchen, baby steps to a clean bathroom, baby steps to a vacuumed floor and baby steps to a rewarding life. I should make it a mantra. I should add it to my morning meditations so that I don’t forget.

It can be hard to always live a mindful life down to the most minute activity, but that is the new regime with fibromyalgia. I will always struggle with being guilty because I’ve done too much. As a fat person, I’ve always felt guilty for not doing enough, for not loving exercise. Now in my forties I am finally loving exercise and I have to put a cap on it. I struggle not to feel guilty at all anymore because it helps no one. If you have fibro or some other chronic illness, or even if you don’t – how do you stop the guilt train? It has to stop. It helps no one. How do you stop the guilt train? We have to put an end to it for our collective health. We have to band together and be encouraging to ourselves. Not just because guilt, shame, and stress can cause not just mental anguish but physical pain in fibromyalgia. I don’t think those things are good for any human.

In addendum: My husband read this before posting. He said that it would probably help for caregivers and spouses to read this. He said it helped understand better. I know if you have fibro you understand this push and pull with your abilities, but maybe your partners don’t. My husband is truly the greatest husband in all of the world. He dotes on my like I am his “precious.” So, if he is still figuring it out then I am guessing education is needed for more partners in this world. I hope this that this essay helps, but I would also recommend: https://butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

 

Self-conscious about Selfcare

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I have learned something very important lately. There is a value in what some people might call “selfishness.” I don’t advocate loving yourself above the love of others. I would just advocate taking care of your mind and body so that you can help others more consistently and powerfully. I grew up in a Christian household in a bible belt state. There is a stigma against anything that could be considered “selfish” especially for women. Mothers are supposed to give up all for their families. This is an underlying rule. This is something ingrained in every woman. Women and especially mom’s sacrifice. They’re the ones who cook, clean, and the last ones to eat dinner. Last Thanksgiving, I was home I watched most of the mothers be the last ones to get dinner and then they stood around eating it because there were no more chairs left. Why is it always the women left standing? This is just one example of many I saw growing up that said being a mother/woman meant being selfless, wanting less than. It’s not just the Midwest, I’ve read that families where both parents work across the US women still do seventy percent of the house work. I don’t think it is just my Midwestern roots cleaning their way into heaven.

When I quit my job to move to Philly because husband got a new job, we decided that I would pursue my writing and try to build a career. Two things happened that made that a difficult venture. First, my health went wonky. The pain I had been dealing with got steadily worse, as documented on this blog. Second, I got too caught up in taking care of my house. That sounds silly doesn’t it, but it’s true. With fibromyalgia I only get so many “spoons” of energy to do things. I would get up make breakfast, and then clean something draining all my spoons and then have no energy to do anything else. It was ridiculous how long this went on. I would clean like a mad woman and inflame my fibro and then maybe be out of commission for a few days. I was getting less and less done. Sadly with fibro, I have had no choice but to be “selfish.”

My mom says the bible doesn’t advocate selfishness, but I venture that the bible doesn’t say anything about cleaning your house, doing laundry, or being the last one to eat Thanksgiving dinner. It does tell us that we should take care of our bodies like a temple because the holy spirit resides there (paraphrasing.) This has been my new goal, my new focus. It is hard, years of ingrained guilt is hard to buck but I am doing it.

I kept reading about women in the wellness industry who put their health first. There was a reoccurring theme on the website well+good.com where women explain their daily morning rituals. https://www.wellandgood.com/tag/my-morning-routine/   These women are yoga instructors, nutritionists, and healthcare gurus. They are also wives and mothers. I was always reading what they do every morning, their indulgent rituals, and feeling extremely jealous. They usually start their day with hot lemon water, yoga or some other exercise, cuddles and conversation. They also usually do something else indulgent like art, journaling, or hanging out in the park. It seemed to me they had a relaxing Saturday before their work day. All of these women make an insane amount of money, claim to feel good and satisfied every day. Those aren’t the only signs of success but I still couldn’t see how they were doing it. So, emboldened by these articles, I decided to put my health first.

Does that just mean exercising? Shouldn’t health also include my mind and soul? Instead of cleaning first thing in the morning, I am doing my yoga, meditation and prayer, and then I am writing. Afterwards I am getting what cleaning I can done before starting dinner. Even then, sometimes if I clean enough I am taking a little hot tea break mid-afternoon. By doing this, giving to my soul and mind, I am getting more done than ever before.  Another product of my Midwestern upbringing, I like being useful. When I accomplish things, it helps my self-esteem. This is probably one of the traits that makes me the proudest of my heritage. While my productivity really makes me feel good about my new plan, it’s not the only thing. I feel better. I am getting my yoga in, and my quiet time and my writing which is something that has always made me feel whole. I am doing that corny thing they always talk about: filling my cup before helping someone else. I am putting my oxygen mask on before putting one on anyone else.

You know who is happiest with my new plan? My husband. I am making dinner every night. The house is more consistently clean. I am in a good mood. I may actually make money on my writing someday if I can keep up with this consistency. This “selfishness” turns out not to be so selfish, and maybe it could pay off even further in the future.

Out of Mourning, a New Resolve

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I am sorry that this smile is gone.

My beautiful, young, full of life cousin just passed away in her sleep. Ashley was nine years younger than I am. She passed away at thirty-three due to complications with her ongoing lung disease. She will be missed by so many. I really admired her spirit and determination. See Ashley has had lung problems all her life. She spent so many days and nights in the hospital being watched over by her poor Mom and Dad who worried constantly. She was a slight little thing as a kid and grew into a rebellious youngster. All of us are rebellious at one point but when you have bad lungs smoking and drinking are even worse. Luckily this time was short. She pulled it out quickly and then focused on her health. Ashley died being a wife, a devoted step-mom who undeniably adored her charge, a spitfire (crazy smart opinionated women run in my family) and amazingly a weight lifter.

It would have been so easy for Ashley to ruminate on the fact that she was born with a set of defective lungs. She could have sulked and stayed in bed, but she rallied and built a full life for herself. Not only that but she built her body up. She worked out steadily and ate well. She built up a business. To see her do all that with the body she was given, makes me feel inspired to do the same.

The past two weeks I have been requiring myself to do yoga absolutely every day. You know that hashtag #yogaeverydamnday? I haven’t really understood that because I feel like it has a negative connotation and yoga has always been enjoyable to me. This past two weeks I have been understanding it. There are days when I have had to crawl to my yoga mat and start by laying on the floor to stretch lightly. I slowly loosen my creaky muscles until I can move without pain. Then I move on to stretches that require all my muscles. It has become a requirement for all of my days. If I don’t do it then I will be in pain all day.

I think that it would be easier sometimes to just stay in bed. I have spent many days this year in bed with the pain and I am sick of it. I hope the ritual I have adopted will keep my out of bed for the foreseeable future. I haven’t tested this theory during my dark days when Aunt Irma visits, but I guess we will see. My physical therapy is working and I am so happy about it.

I think this new resolve is coming from a place of remorse for how much I have let my body sort of fend for itself against my vices.

Perhaps I can take up her mantle of good health. Maybe someday I can be someone people look at and say Hey, she had all that pain but she still put her health first. I hope so. I just have to keep making that uncomfortable walk/crawl to the mat every morning. If I can build on that. I might be able to follow her example.

“You are…fat?”

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“You are…fat??” she said with trepidation. I replied, “Yes, yes I am,” as calmly as I could muster. This new student at my ESL class seemed to be thinking of the right words after she witnessed me taking my blood sugar. Following that horrifying moment, another student made me proud by knowing enough English to scold her, “We no say fat. We say unhealthy.” Right after I got distracted by other students asking questions about how to say something or other. I think it might have been intentional. My students are some of the most polite humans I have ever met. I don’t know this student at all because she was new. I don’t even remember her name, but I can bet she didn’t mean to insult me. I would wager she was actually concerned about me.

I am usually like Teflon when it comes to this stuff. I sizzle when it happens but then it slides right off. I usually bristle back at the asshole who thought he could comment on my health or most likely appearance, but this wasn’t an asshole. I have to say I ruminated on it all day, and four days later still thinking about it. I keep seeing her confused face, and hear her say it over and over, “You are…fat?”

I probably would have shrugged it off but I had a horrible health week. I found out I have kidney damage. My A1C was 6.5 which is barely diabetic but that puts me back in medicine territory. I told her I didn’t want to take meds because I am trying to do things more holistically and that is when the doctor told me I have kidney damage. That’s another phrase that’s been going around in my head, “KIDNEY DAMAGE.” She later called it “low grade kidney disease.”

So for those keeping score, I now have fibromyalgia, PCOS, fibroids, adenomyosis, pelvic inflammation, diabetes, and now KIDNEY DISEASE! I know she said low grade, but seriously kidney disease doesn’t sound good. I’ve been researching it and it isn’t. I can’t make this better. I can never make this better. I can’t heal my kidneys. The damage is done. This isn’t a car, it’s my body. It’s not like I lost that new car smell. I lost part of my kidney function. This is bullshit.

There are two reasons this could have happened to me – my high blood sugar, and my excessive Aleve use. Because of the pain, I have to take sometimes four Aleve a day. Now I have to stop all Aleve which so far has been the only thing keeping me sane during times of pain (other than yoga.) I also have to take some diabetic pills and I have to monitor my blood sugar closely again.

So basically I’ve damaged a part of my body, I can’t repair it, and it’s only going to get worse unless I seriously turn it around. Which should be so easy right? Since, I’ve done it before. Okay…so I haven’t done it ever. So this week has felt pretty hopeless.

After yoga yesterday I just thought. I can only do what I can do. Ya know?

Have you received bad health news in the past? How did you deal with it?

My Ego Hates the Bow Pose

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I can finally do this pose for twenty seconds on one foot. 

I have been reading a lot about yoga because I don’t have a gym or a studio I go to. I am learning on my own. I research every pose before trying it. In my reading, I’ve come across countless articles about ego and how ego can lead to injury. I am not going to assume that people injure themselves because of ego.  I could injure myself because of concentration issues and definitely my horrible balance. I have to admit feeling as if someone would need a small amount of ego to try some of the poses, like a handstand. A handstand could be significantly dangerous if done wrong. I have yet to attempt one because I’ve only worked up to thirty seconds on my planks. I am shaking still at second twenty five. I think I need to be able to do the plank for a lot longer if I am ever to do a handstand. I am working on buffing up my arms because I have trouble with pickle jars. I mean I love pickles, but it’s more about the functionality of having arms that can lift, move, and open things. Being able to do a handstand would be just a fun by product of that.  I think it might be years before I try a handstand. I am not putting myself down or pushing my dreams down.  I just have to know my limitations.

Why is so much literature out there about how not to get hurt with yoga and how to put your ego aside? Is that because we so often want to share our practice with others? I do find myself bragging when I have mastered a new pose. Sometimes it is a little ridiculous because I can only do the very basic moves. It’s like a sixteen year old bragging about being able to tie their shoes. I’m like, look at me I can do a twenty second plank! My ESL class was counting me down while I was showing off. All of them shouting 1, 2, 3 etc., when they said twenty I got off the floor to shouts of jubilation!

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I know it looks like I’m bent but it’s just my butt.

I don’t think it is bad to revel in the accomplishments but I think it’s important for my practice that I sort of marinate in the process of getting there. The vernacular is being mindful but I don’t think that is even appropriate. It’s more like savor. While working into the poses I don’t just want to be mindful of where my body is placed or how my muscles feel. I want to love how they feel. I want to enjoy it so much I feel the need to slow down and honor the way my body feels.

I’ve been desperate to open my hips up because of they are in pain. I do a lot of poses that stretch my pelvis and open my hips. In addition to Bound Angle Pose, Hand to Big Toe Pose, Reclining Bound Angle pose, countless upward dogs and many more hip openers, I heard that downward facing dog with stacked hips is one of the best hip openers. So I watched a video how to do it. After the video I went to my mat and started my practice. About seven poses in I usually do downward dog, but this time I lifted one of my legs held it there for ten seconds and then flexed my foot and bent my leg. I did exactly what the video told me to do. Boy did that feel good… at first. I was really enjoying it so I tried to deepen the stretch and then felt a ping of pain. It wasn’t a major pain. It was just a twinge that I knew could have turned into a major injury if the twinge hadn’t shocked me into stopping. As it was, my right hip was sore for about two hours. I was lucky. After researching the pose more thoroughly, I realized that I didn’t square my hips right. Was it my ego that convinced me to try a pose I hadn’t properly researched or desperation or both?

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Close but not bow pose
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It felt closer than it looks

Is it ego that lets me try yoga at all? I am a plus size person who has no previous exercise experience. What business do I have trying something that seemingly only thin impossibly beautiful people can do? At least that is what I used to believe before all those wonderful plus size women blew up Instagram like Dianne Bondy, Jessamyn Stanley, and Dana Falsetti. So I think there is a little ego involved in doing yoga at all, on many layers.

There is a challenge to starting any exercise and then continuing it after failing at exercise over and over. In yoga I have failed a lot. Not only is my downward facing dog with stacked hips a failure the first time, but I can’t do a bow pose to save my life. I can’t reach both feet behind my back at once. (I can’t do many poses. Bow Pose is just the one I am working on now.) The only way I can continue with my practice after failing so much is not to look at it as failure. I have to look at it as progress. Just getting on the mat and getting closer is a big deal.

I used to quit exercise at the first sign of failure but now I inch towards things I never thought I could do. Savoring where I am now is what makes me able push through the doubt, but also temper my enthusiasm. Research and living in the pose, not just keeping my mind on it, but thoroughly enjoying the pose is the only way I am going to avoid a downward dog debacle again. It’s the difference between stretching, like To The Oldies, and yoga. This “mindfulness” should be inherent in the process, right? Maybe instead of my Ego getting the better of myself, I just lost sight of that. I will remind myself every time I get on my mat, that if I am taking the time to do this, then I better really appreciate it.