Last month my brother Dan was in town for this big old two-day family event. THE biggest annual gathering on my father's side. A family tradition from backwoods Virginia over a hundred years old, I think. Cousins, aunts and uncles, lifelong friends, random friends, and the offspring come to eat, talk, and take turns stirring an 18 gallon copper kettle full of applebutter that has to boil constantly for eight hours over an open open flame. It's intense. We call it Applebutter Day because our ancestors are creative.
|The canning of the applebutter after it's been boiling all day. The kettle is at the far end, and my sister, Jen, is stirring, just for reference.|
|Two of my brothers, Jimmy and Dan on Applesauce Day|
|Uncle Dan and my son|
I saw it. I saw it all through preschool-Dan's eyes. His mother, my mother, how we adored her. How she was our entire lives. Our foundation, our safety, our stability. Her size was 100% irrelevant. I see my kids, how they adore me. How I am their entire lives. How they need me to be someone to build on, shelter under, and discover things with. My size is 100% irrelevant to them. To all my relationships, actually. Except the one with myself. But, here's where the magic happened. I latched on to that one word: Irrelevant.
It's such a powerful word, don't you think? Plus it's fun to say. And if I think something is irrelevant, I immediately dismiss it. I give the word that much power. And if my size really is irrelevant to my children, and to my friends, maybe I could teach myself to think of it that way. For the whole last month, every time I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, or my reflection in a window, and the negative emotions and thoughts rushed in, I said, out loud, "my size is irrelevant." All day. Every day. For weeks. And when I looked at other women and analyzed their looks, or wondered if I was bigger or smaller, I stopped myself and said, "her size is irrelevant to who she is."
|This is me and my nephew on Applebutter Day. My size is irrelevant him. He loves me because I'm aunt Rach|
I don't have to wallow in the thoughts. I can dismiss them. They're irrelevant.