by Heather Plett | Jul 28, 2010 | Beauty, body, journey, women
Me, on a rickety old boat in India, in one of my favourite skirts
Recently, a friend (who likes to shop more than I do) gave me three large bags full of great, almost new, hand-me-down clothes. It felt like Christmas, especially since many of them look better on me than a lot of the clothes I already owned.
Because I’m a bit of a pack-rat, I didn’t have alot of room in my closet or dresser for this windfall. So last night was purge time. As best I could, I tried to be ruthless and let go of anything that a.) I hadn’t worn for awhile, or b.) didn’t really enjoy wearing even if it was recent.
The clothes I packed up for goodwill fit into three categories:
- Clothes that are too baggy because my body has changed OR because I’d convinced myself that an overweight woman like me shouldn’t wear fitted clothes.
- Clothes that used to fit me a size or two ago, that I still really like, and that I hope to fit into again some day.
- Clothes that I never really liked the look or feel of (once I had them home from the store and on my body), or that didn’t really suit my personality, but that I felt guilty about getting rid of because I’d invested money in them.
That list says a lot about the things that I hang onto:
- Old ideas about myself and how I should or shouldn’t dress or I should or shouldn’t look.
- Unrealistic ideals about what I want to look like “some day”, coupled with dissatisfaction over how I look RIGHT NOW.
- Guilt and unhelpful attachment to choices I shouldn’t have made.
- Shame over being the size I am right now and always a longing to be something different.
- Feeling that it’s wrong to want to look my very best, and that some days I should just be satisfied with boring, poorly fitted clothes.
- The sense that if I hang onto worn out, baggy, or not-quite-right clothes, I am fitting into the image I’ve painted of myself as a frugal/earthy person who doesn’t want to use up too much of the earth’s resources for her own consumption.
- The idea that I’m supposed to dress a certain way (professional/practical/conservative/not-too-loud/not-too-sexy) to fit certain roles I have in my life and to ensure I don’t offend anyone or rock the boat.
That’s a lot of baggage I’m trying to pack away in those goodwill bags. No, I’m not idealistic enough to believe that a one-time purge will allow me to shake all of those old ideas, but I have to start somewhere.
Here are some of the new ideas I’m trying to replace them with:
- It’s okay to look great, feel great, (and maybe even a little sexy!) and enjoy what I’m wearing.
- My style is somewhere in the range of eclectic/colourful/global/bohemian/wanderer/artist – and THAT’S THE WAY I DRESS!
- I am a good steward of the earth’s and my own resources AND I appreciate and value the beauty and comfort in what the earth has provided for me.
- I look good and feel good the way my body is RIGHT NOW, even if it’s far from society’s ideals.
- It’s okay to be who I am and let that shine through the clothes I put on my body.
- Old choices are in the past and I can let them go without guilt.
by Heather Plett | Jul 26, 2010 | Beauty, body, journey
See this overweight, big-butted, 44 year old woman? She has become a RUNNER!
It’s true. It’s never too late to teach an old dog new tricks. A couple of months ago, I bought a fancy new pair of shoes (that fit my orthotic insoles), checked out this Learn to Run program (thanks to Jamie for the link), and started running. And… surprise, surprise… I love it!
I mostly just run on the weekends (during the week I ride my beloved bike to work – for a total of 22 km/day) and when on vacation (I can tell you a great running path in Maple Grove, Minnesota), so I’m taking my own meandering journey through the learn to run progam. As of this weekend, though, I’m able to run for 4 minutes, walk for 1 and then repeat it four times for a total of 20 minutes of running time. Woot!
As you probably know if you’ve been following this blog for awhile, I had breast reduction surgery back in March. One of the reasons I’ve never run before is that… well… how do I say this? Flopping sucks. As does the sore back from carrying that excess weight. And… have you ever tried to find a sports bra in a double H? Nope, you won’t find one of those on the racks at Target. It seems bra manufacturers rightfully assume that few people with boobs that big will have “sports” in their vocabulary.
With everything else that’s been going on in my life since then, I haven’t talked much about my post-surgery thoughts. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when I finally made the agonizing decision to go through with it. Would it feel like I’d betrayed my body? Would I feel like a bit of a fraud, especially since I’m not really fond of the plastic surgery trend in North America these days?
Well, let me tell you, there have been NO REGRETS! I feel great! My body is far from perfect, but it finally feels like it is in balance!
I’ve had several people tell me that my posture has improved, and I know that it’s true. My back feels stronger and less weighed down. The bra strap indents in my shoulders are disappearing. Plus there’s the psychological side – I think I was probably hunching my shoulders partly because I felt some self-conscious need to draw less attention to my breasts.
And then there’s the running. I’ve had a bit of a yearning to try running for quite awhile. Being a wanderer at heart, I’m always happiest when my chosen form of exercise includes the opportunity to see things and meander through the neighbourhood. Cycling’s good, but the truth is, I can be a pretty lazy cyclist when I want to be. I wanted to push myself a little harder, sweat a little more, so it was time to try running.
Well, who knew that I’d enjoy it so much? This weekend I even found myself thinking “I need to figure out what equipment/clothing I need to get in order to do this in the winter.” (Time will tell if the love affair lasts through the brutal winters we get.)
I haven’t lost any significant amount of weight since I started running, but the beautiful thing is, I don’t care! Really, I don’t! I’m learning to love this big ol’ body in new ways, I’m finding clothes that fit my new curves, and I feel healthy and strong.
When I dragged my daughter outside yesterday morning to take a post-running photo, it was with the thought that I would post it in a “look at me, not ashamed of showing myself at my worst – in all my red-faced sweaty glory” attitude. (The pictures really don’t do it justice – my face turns BEET red when I exert myself. And MAN do I sweat!)
But then I looked at the close-up and thought “Wow! I look so alive!”
by Heather Plett | Jul 5, 2010 | Beauty, journey
Sometimes, one doesn’t know what one needs until that elusive thing has been found. And then, when the unrecognizable hunger has been satiated, the soul sings with delight.
That’s how it was yesterday when I arrived at King’s Park on my way to the labyrinth. Even before I reached the labyrinth, I felt the resounding “Yes!” ring through my body. I walked through the flower garden, smelled the roses, heard the twittering of birds, felt the warm sun and the cooling breeze on my face, and knew that I had come to that place where my soul meets God.
This place – the labyrinth and park that surrounds it – has come to mean so much to me. It opens my heart and my mind. It lifts a shadowy veil from my eyes. It helps me see the world anew. It gives me hope and restores my faith.
It is like an anchor – a safe place in the storm.
I have been reading Artful Leadership by Michael Jones of late, and I have been reminded of how crucial silence and solitude are in the work of a leader, artist, or, frankly, anyone who wants to live more deeply and mindfully. We all need to find our places of stillness where our hearts can sing and we are silent enough to hear God speak.
If you haven’t found one of those places lately, what are you waiting for? Go, seek, and find. Rest, be still, wander, breathe deeply, take pictures, write in your journal, pray, listen, whistle – do what you need to do to feel alive and whole.
And then, when you feel that surge of energy and hope in you anew, whisper a prayer of thankfulness for the beauty that surrounds you and the beauty that is in you.
And don’t forget to read between the lines on the petal of an iris – you might be surprised what secrets lie hidden there.
p.s. if you are new here, you might enjoy this little video I made about the labyrinth last year.
by Heather Plett | May 23, 2010 | art, Beauty
This morning, with the sun emerging after an overnight rain, I swear my run felt more like church than many church services I’ve been at. My alive and energized body served as temple. The birds celebrating the ease of their post-rain worm harvest provided the worship music. Lilacs and other flowering trees blessed us with incense. And these three songs, showing up in this order in my random playlist, were more inspiration than I’ve heard in a lot of sermons. Take a moment to listen to them and see if you don’t feel something shift.
1. Wake me up, by Martn Joseph
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xogcnPQlDUs]
2. Polly Come Home, by Robert Plant & Alison Krauss
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZXN0KHpvUg]
3. Soul Meets Body, sung by Catie Curtis (original by Death Cab for Cutie)
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9jC2K6_ppo]
by Heather Plett | May 20, 2010 | Beauty, beginnings, birthday, body, fearless, growth, journey
Yes, it’s my birthday. It is with great relief that I say good-bye to last year and usher in a new one. Last year seemed to be the year of “refining” and in my experience, refining is rarely fun. I’m ready to move on!
The beauty of turning 44 is that you’ve reached an age where you care less and less about how silly you might look. Some day I’ll probably wear a purple dress with a red hat! 🙂 Or a Mardi Gras mask to work. (Darn – I wish I’d thought of that today!)
As a way of ushering in a new year, I want to make a new commitment to myself, and I’d like you to join me! Please raise your right and repeat with me the pledge of the Sisterhood of the Burning Bra:
As an esteemed member of the Sisterhood of the Burning Bra, I hereby commit to doing my best to do the following:
- commit to the fire the old stories that serve no other purpose but to shackle me
- listen more carefully to the wisdom of my body and honour it when it sends me signals related to hunger, fullness, rest, and movement
- not listen quite as carefully to the negative voices in my head that are usually lying to me
- giggle with glee when I feel like it
- make a confession when I have wronged someone and then believe that I am forgiven
- lean on my sisters around the circle and trust that they will offer compassion, wisdom, and courage
- let myself be guided into the place of power that the Creator makes available to me
- stand up more boldly and say “NO!” when people try to shovel unnecessary guilt on my shoulders
- wiggle my toes in the sand and be moved by the sense of touch
- honour the other sisters in the circle and offer them my giftedness
- dream really crazy big dreams
- not allow fear to hold a larger space in my life than it deserves
- wear Mardi Gras masks (or silly hats or mismatched socks) once in awhile, just for fun
- gently forgive myself for the times when I fail to live up to these commitments
- hold occasional rituals where I burn symbols of the things I want to let go of
Thank you for being in my circle! (And by the way, I welcome all brothers into the circle too! Some of you are my best allies and I don’t want to leave you out!)
For a couple of related posts, check out my guest posts at Square Peg Reflections and at Blisschick. I’m delighted to have been welcomed into their spaces on this special day!
by Heather Plett | Mar 16, 2010 | Beauty, beginnings, fearless, journey, Uncategorized
I’m writing this from my little cocoon on the couch. The big picture window lets me catch glimpses of the outside world, but until I am sufficiently healed from my breast reduction surgery, I remain mostly indoors, in this position, with a few good wisdom books, some green tea, my journal, my laptop, and a box of tissues within reach.
The last time I remember cocooning like this was in September 2000. I was in the hospital for a few weeks hoping the baby I carried would remain in his little cocoon long enough to emerge a beautiful strong butterfly. He didn’t, but that doesn’t mean a butterfly didn’t emerge. It was a transformative time for me, Marcel, and our family. Transformation that was brought on largely because of those three weeks I sat in the quiet little retreat space that my hospital room had become, holding space for the son who would never breathe but would change my world.
During that time, my friend Stephanie gifted me with a story about how a butterfly had become a beloved symbol for a woman who had gone through the loss of her dad. She also gave me a butterfly clip that I wore until I left the hospital. Amazingly, after that day, butterflies started showing up everywhere, including my 5th floor hospital window.
Even after I left the hospital without Matthew, butterflies served as a regular reminder of my son and the way that he had changed me. The following Mother’s Day, while we ate lunch outside with our family, an amazingly friendly butterfly, with one flawed wing, landed on the heads of almost everyone at the table. It was my son, coming to bless us on Mother’s Day.
This week, I’m cocooning again. I was resistant at first, wishing for the time to pass, wishing for friends to visit, wishing I could at least accomplish something. But then I listened to Jen Lee’s simple but wise podcast about how sometimes, when it looks like nothing’s happening, the truth is that everything’s happening. When Jen talked about the transformation that happens when she’s busy taking a nap, it triggered a deep, resounding “YES!” in me, and soon I was relishing my quiet little cocoon on the couch.
The thoughts that came after Jen’s podcast sent me to my bookshelf for an old friend. More than 20 years ago, a beloved teacher/mentor I had at the time, gifted me with “Hope for the Flowers“, a transformative little picture book about a young caterpillar who, after trying repeatedly to “reach the sky” by climbing to the top of a “pillar of caterpillars”, learns to give in to his true nature, climb up on a branch and spin a cocoon. Only once he is willing to take that risk and just be still is he ready to be transformed into the butterfly he is meant to become.
Re-reading that book for the umpteenth time reminded me of how valuable it had been, nearly 10 years ago, to pause from clamouring up my own “pillar of caterpillars”, and rest in my little cocoon with my unborn son as my spiritual guide.
With rather uncanny timing (isn’t that often how these things happen?) I stumbled on Lianne’s lovely (and free!) e-book that asks the provocative question “What is dying to be born?” I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that question since I read through the book. (It’s beautiful and full of so much goodness!)
Wow! What is it that has to die in me in order to let something else be born? What do I have to be willing to abandon in this cocoon in order to emerge the butterfly I am meant to become?
Last year was a restless year. Despite a great job and lots of goodness in my life, I was full of some deep dissatisfaction. Try as I might, I couldn’t find the right way to FIX it. I tried some new things, took some new paths, restled with demons, but still the dissatisfaction lingered.
Until… well, until I was willing to do two of the things I’d been avoiding. Rest. And wait.
I haven’t quite figured out what is dying to be born in my life, but I know that I won’t figure it out with restless clamouring, trying to reach the sky.
I’m giving in, and spinning my cocoon. Some day soon, the body that I chose to transform through surgery, will carry me through the deeper transformation into my butterfly life.
