Self Portrait 1-5

After the hip-bursitis diagnosis, I was really discouraged, depressed, and went into a tail-spin (and a tail inflation, too, I suppose, gaining 15 more pounds -- I'm at my all-time highest weight).  I ignored the blog and spent little time on the computer anymore.  A couple of blogs were still fed to my email.  One was Jill's "The Sassy Pear."  She was recently inspired by Kyra's "(the never ending) Adventures in Fitness (& Life)" and her project to take self-portraits every day for a month.  At first I didn't want to, but then I though maybe I could learn something from it.  I've been in a fog for months now, pretty much ignoring my circumstances and surviving on denial.

Feb. 4
My daughter and I after her Irish dancing competition.
We have a fun time together while I help her practice and
get her ready at 0'dark-thirty.  She seems to really like me
and my company.  I hope that lasts forever.

Feb. 5
Walking to church.  We have three hours:  sacrament
meeting, Sunday school, and Elders' Quorum/Relief
Society meetings.  I was "called" as a Sunday school
teacher to the 14-15 year-olds.  That has been both a
source of great anxiety and a growing experience.  It
definitely is outside my comfort zone.  I wasn't raised in
this church, so I feel highly unqualified.  But, that's the whole
point of a calling, to stretch and develop us.
When I see this picture, I remember so many times wanting to
turn around and go home and not be around others.
I often force a smile.  "Great!  And you?"
I have to say though, by the end of the 3 hours, I am up-lifted and
glad I went.  I keep telling myself that over and over as I make this
trip the following week.

Feb. 6
There it is -- the reason I avoid the camera and mirrors.
Behind me is my sweet family at dinnertime.
I am in my office, the kitchen.
I should label this, "Tired, Fat Mom Who Has Completely Let Herself Go."

Feb. 7
Day 4 was closing, and I still hadn't thought of what type
of self-portrait I should take.  I wanted to take off my shoes
and began to pull on my pant leg to lift my leg onto my other knee;
I couldn't lift my foot otherwise -- too fat, pants too tight.
"THAT"S what I should take a picture of," I thought to myself.
"It's absolutely ridiculous that I've let myself get this way.  I should
take a good, hard look of what I've become instead of numbly ignoring it."

Feb. 8
I had just taken a shower and was grabbing a bite before
heading to the grocery store.  My hubby sweetly said,
"You look pretty."
I asked him to take a picture so I could see what he sees.
I don't see it.
I see a fat, depressed, tired girl who has nearly given up and
is about to put a potato chip in her mouth.  Wow.