J. Crew is my inspiration and my nemesis. It beckons with its hearty wools and chunky tweeds, and crushes my spirit with its size-0 tailoring. I imagine myself dressing in its casually-draped button-downs and bold necklaces, its Audrey Hepburn skimmer pants and narrow flats, but my plus-size self has no place here. I should avoid it – I've learned not to cultivate discontentment – but I also think it's good for me. It's good for me to remember that I am the same person I was when I could fit into these slim clothes. (In fact, I'm a better person than that girl; not because of my weight, but because of what's happened in the years that have passed.) It's good for me to remember that my worth is not proportionate to my weight. But it's also good for me to remember that my body is a temple, that God desires me to be my best, that He calls me out of my ways and into His. I want to knock food down a few pegs, to be able to sincerely say (like Jesus), “My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me, and to finish His work" (John 4:34 NKJV).
And so I take tiny steps into this journey: saying "yes" to kickball with the boys, joining (and going to) Curves, saying "no" to chocolate before bed once (or dare I say twice?!) a week, finally doing the Freedom From Emotional Eating study I've procrastinated for years. I move into this process tentatively, warily, but knowing that I can harness the power of the One who created all, who saved my marriage, who fulfilled my dreams, who overcame even death.