I took a long look in my mirror. I loved the way that my black dress hugged my curves. Slipping on my new heels gave my average 5'7" size just that added height that made my legs look pretty darn good—if I did say so myself, which I found myself doing a lot more of lately. If I stopped to think about it, it was a small miracle that I’d gone from being so critical of my body to actually appreciating everything about it—even its lumps and curves—the very same bits that I used to cringe over.
I really did owe a lot of that progress to my therapist. I’d been seeing Judy for over a year now. A good friend of mine had recommended her to me after the break-up. It had been two years since Dan broke up with me, and before I started seeing Judy I really was a bit of a basket case. I’d been duped—thrown for a total loop—when Dan broke up with me via a text message.
Here I was thinking we were headed toward a marriage proposal, when, in fact, he confessed that he wasn’t even remotely attracted to me anymore. It still hurt to think about it, if I was being honest, and it took me a long time and a lot of work to get over the tailspin of depression I’d been in following the break-up. I spent a lot of nights consoling myself with fast food, ice cream, and torturous romantic comedies before I took a good hard look at my two-hundred-fifty-pound physique and realized that maybe Dan had a point.
Oh, I didn’t agree with his delivery at all. It had been hurtful, and the fact that his love had seemed to be dependent on my weight left me feeling a kind of hurt and anger that I wouldn’t easily recover from. But the me that took the honest look at myself knew that the bigger issue was how I was treating my body and myself at that time. It wasn’t so much about the numbers on the scale as it was about my loving myself regardless of what those numbers said. I couldn’t really expect someone to love me if I wasn’t loving myself, after all. And I hadn’t been.
That was the biggest thing that I’d learned in therapy with the help of Judy over several months following my depression. Week by week, I started realizing things about myself that I’d never really taken the time to get to know. I joined the gym and started doing my personal training sessions with Braden, not only because I wanted to shed some weight, but because I wanted to be strong and healthy, appreciating my body in ways that I never had before.
And it had all paid off, I thought, staring at my reflection and smiling. I was ready for a much-needed night out on the town.
Chapter 8
I checked my phone to be sure I hadn’t missed a call from Danielle. It was starting to get late and I was getting slightly concerned that she’d not gotten back to me yet to let me know that she was on her way to pick me up. Our dinner reservation was for a half hour from now, and I had no idea what the parking situation would be like.
I saw on my phone that I’d gotten another notification from an online dating site I’d signed up for last week. Really, I’d just done it for fun because a friend of mine had sent me a special offer for a trial membership. So far, I’d not paid too much attention to it, but I had been getting a few match notifications in the past few days—this last one also reminding me that my trial was about to expire. Since I had a few minutes, I opened up my laptop to have a look at what kind of guys this site was matching me with.
At first glance, the men seemed normal, at least by appearances. I couldn’t stop checking to see what they had selected regarding their body type preference. The system didn’t give a lot of leeway here. For myself, I’d chosen curvy because the only other option that came close to how I’d describe myself was the term obese, but who really wanted to use that as a descriptive on a dating site?
Don’t get me wrong—I knew that, according to medical standards, I was easily classified as obese, but curvy was the obvious more sexy choice when it came to online dating profiles. I could see now, though, that the three guys who I’d been matched with had selected curvy and obese as their body type preference. At close inspection, two of the three guys described themselves as “chubby chasers”—a term which struck me as unappealing. Did they have a fetish for fat? Did they have overweight mothers and strange complexes that stemmed from unhealthy childhoods?
I was at a point of loving my body as it was, but I certainly didn’t plan to remain purposely overweight—and certainly not for a guy. I couldn’t help but laugh a little thinking that if my online matches were any indication of “real life dating,” I now needed to consider that someone was interested in me because of my size, not despite my size.
It all really just reinforced my resolve to put dating on hold for now. I had plenty of things to focus on—namely being healthy for myself, both physically and emotionally—and I was well on my way in those regards.
The buzz of an incoming call interrupted my thoughts and my search through the profiles of men on the dating site.
It was Danielle.
“Please don’t hate me.”
My heart sank. Not the words you wanted to hear while awaiting your friend to come pick you up for the night out on the town that you’ve needed for weeks.
“No. Don’t tell me that you’re standing me up.” I smoothed my dress over my hips as I stood up, the phone to my ear, waiting for what I knew was coming.
“It’s Greg.”
It was a good thing that Danielle couldn’t see the face I was making at the mention of her dear fiancé’s name—who normally I liked a lot, but tonight I wasn’t so sure.
“I thought Greg had a work trip this weekend.”
“Yeah, he did and then it got cancelled at the last minute.”
“Okay, so he can’t handle you going out one night without him?” I was trying not to whine, but honestly, I was more than a little irritated at the turn of events.
“Zara, please don’t be like that. Normally he’d be totally cool, but we’ve not seen each other all week because of work.”
I could feel myself frowning, wondering if I should press it with her but knowing that she’d already made her decision. Besides, I didn’t want her to go out with me if her mind was elsewhere. I took a deep breath.
“It’s okay. I understand.” I really didn’t understand but that was for me to mull over, I suppose. I hated it when everything in a woman’s life came to a screeching halt once there was a significant other in the picture. I didn’t think that I’d been so bad about it myself when Dan and I were together, but for sure I vowed never to be like that in my next relationship. I didn’t want my whole world to revolve around a guy—it wasn’t healthy. That I was sure of.
“Thanks. You’re the best. I promise that I’ll make it up to you, okay?”
“Okay. You two have a good night. I’m going to go order a pizza and change into my pjs.” I tried to laugh when I realized how utterly pathetic I sounded.
“Zara.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’m suddenly feeling pretty tired anyway. I’ll talk to you later.”
I made my way to the bedroom to change out of my clothes, pulling up the phone number of the restaurant so that I could call to cancel.
While I waited, I caught another look at myself in the full-length mirror. Hmm. I bit my lip, thinking about it. Who went to a nice restaurant on a Friday night all alone? Was it a crazy idea? Or something fitting my new Zara persona?
A warrior princess does not stay home on her own when she’s all dressed up and ready to try some fantastic new restaurant. Why should I let Danielle’s change of plans dictate my own? I grabbed my handbag, keys, and the jacket I’d thrown over the sofa and headed for the door before I could change my mind.
Chapter 9
I tried not to scrunch up my nose to match that of the hostess at the restaurant. Yes, it would be a table for one. No, the other party would not be joining me. I followed her to my table, trying not to notice all of the couples and pairs of patrons seated at every other table surrounding my own.
I took a deep breath. You can do this. No one is looking at you because nobody cares. But it was obvious to me that the hostess cared—or at least she was
still acting like it was all a big mistake as she sat me at my table, quickly whisking away the other place setting as she did so.
Good grief. Could a woman really not enjoy a nice meal alone? Did being single mean that one wasn’t allowed to eat nice food? Go to nice places? This sure was turning out to be an experiment, and now I was feeling slightly more irritated than apprehensive.
I sat up straight at the table and smiled as the waiter handed me my menu and recited the specials to me. In truth, this was a totally new experience for me and one worthy of just the slightest apprehension. I was used to having coffees, lunches, and dinners at less fancy restaurants by myself. I did that all the time. I even went—and enjoyed—going to the movies by myself—something I knew made a lot of my friends cringe.
I sipped the wine that I’d ordered and waited for my food to arrive. This was the tricky part—when pairs of people would be chatting about current events and couples would be lost in conversation or one another’s eyes.
I pulled out my phone, thankful for the wonders of technology and hopeful that I could look busy and interesting, when in fact, I was checking social media and playing my favorite video game.
I finished my wine and was surprised when the waiter placed another in front of me, gesturing towards the bar to my right.
“From the gentleman at the bar.”
I followed his gaze, feeling my cheeks grow hot as a very attractive man raised his glass towards me. I tried to smile at the man as I took a sip, but I suddenly felt so flustered that I couldn’t even seem to manage moving my mouth at all. Honestly, you’d think that I’d never been bought a drink before. But he was gorgeous—as in really gorgeous.
Chubby chaser? The phrase was on my mind and I couldn’t shake it. For some reason, I couldn’t look at this man without thinking that he had some fetish for fat women or something else that made him completely disturbing. He was just too handsome for me.
Wow. Even as I had the thought, I knew that it was wrong—a step backward—a recognition that all of my steps forward had just come to a screeching halt followed by a giant pull backwards into time and space—to a time where I’d forgotten who I was and what I was worth.
I ate the rest of my meal without enjoying a bite. It was all I could do not to ask for a doggy bag for the entire steak dinner when it arrived, and I’d never felt so much relief as when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the handsome stranger get up to leave.
I took deep gulps of the cool evening air as I made my way to my car. I closed the car door behind me and looked into the rearview mirror talking to myself out loud.
“You are a warrior princess—good enough just as you are and worthy of every good thing.”
And I promptly burst into tears.
Something was wrong. Something was all wrong.
I let myself cry as I made the twenty-minute drive back to my condo. They were the ugly kind of tears—the kind that you’d try to hold in at all costs if you were with another person—for fear of their thinking that there was no way that you weren’t actually having a nervous breakdown right in front of their very eyes.
Somehow in the midst of the loud animalistic noises reverberating around the interior of my car, I heard the ding of an incoming text message from my phone on the seat. I grabbed it while at a stoplight.
Hey you. Date went south. Any chance for a drink? Or still with your friend?
Braden. I smiled through my tears, instantly feeling better. Though it was tempting because it was Braden and I loved being around him, one look in the mirror at the mascara streaked under my eyes reinforced what I knew needed to happen. I couldn’t put a band-aid on how I was feeling tonight. I needed to go home and take a long look at the thoughts that I’d had—at the feelings that had been stirred within me. I’d come too far not to honor my process of being one hundred percent honest with myself no matter what.
I pulled my phone into my lap to text him back after pulling into the parking space at my condo.
Hey you back. Sorry to hear about the date. Sorry. Hit a bit of a rough patch. Gonna call it a night.
My phone instantly dinged with another text.
Are you okay? Do you want me to come over?
Honestly, Braden was so great. If only all men could be like him. If only…Don’t go there, Zara. I sure was reprimanding myself a lot these days.
Thanks. Yes, I’m okay. Call you tomorrow?
Yes. I’m here if you need me. And Zara—I don’t know what is going on right now but you ARE a warrior princess. Just in case you needed the reminder. ;)
With that, I burst into tears all over again, counting again my blessings for having Braden in my life.
I was suddenly feeling very exhausted as I let myself into my place. I was emotionally drained and just wanted to crawl under my covers, but instead I made a decision that I knew was a first step in dealing with the setback—or recognition—that I’d had this evening.
I pulled up my email program, composing an email to my therapist with a subject line that read URGENT session request. In the email, I gave her a brief overview of the big “aha” that had happened for me at dinner regarding Mr. Gorgeous at the bar, and asked her if there was any way she could squeeze me in for a therapy session the next day.
I closed my laptop, changed into my pjs, and crawled into bed for a much-needed good sleep. I vowed that the next day would be all about doing good things for myself, therapy session or no session.
I needed to get refocused.
Chapter 10
I took a deep breath in as I stretched my arms up to the early morning sky, the beautiful shades of pink already starting to fade even though it was only six o’clock in the morning. For months now, I’d been really good about keeping to my early morning wake-up on Saturdays—setting my alarm for five o’clock, just as I would during the work week. I did allow myself a sleep-in on Sunday mornings. Even at the best of times, I needed a break from the sound of my alarm going off. But Saturdays were a time I dedicated to a special routine of morning meditation and a brisk walk through the park near my house. It was a time during the week that I’d begun to cherish, and I especially felt that I needed it today.
I stretched again and contemplated doing a downward dog pose as I looked around to see how many people were nearby in the park. I tried not to subject the elderly and small children to my larger than average booty in the air if I could help it. I stopped myself in my tracks—physically and mentally.
What was with my negative self-talk lately? I didn’t know where it was all coming from, as I’d worked for months on my daily affirmations and stopping the negative thoughts from entering my psyche. Yet here I stood worried what others would think about my gradually slimming behind up in the air. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have clothes on, for goodness’ sakes.
I sighed and bent over in the grass where I now stood, giving myself the full freedom of a full-on stretch, my rear as high as it would go. I felt the stretch in my legs and reached my hands a little further out into the grass.
When Braden had suggested that I try the yoga class at the gym, at first I’d laughed at the suggestion, not really considering myself the most limber of people. In truth, I was less than graceful at times, but my workouts and changing body had helped me to feel a lot more comfortable with my body in general—and just comfortable enough that I was willing to try a lot of new types of exercise.
I’d been hooked after my first yoga class. It was something I’d started doing on my own because with my busy schedule, it was rare that I could fit that in at the gym and my workout sessions with Braden.
He’d also convinced me to try wall climbing with him one weekend. We’d done that one off the clock—an outing as friends—because he said it was also something that he enjoyed doing for fun. It had been a great workout and I’d felt the effects on my muscles for days after.
As I remained in my yoga pose, looking at my feet, I tried to rid my mind of any negative thoughts. I’d been pleased when I
saw the email reply from Judy that she’d be able to see me at four today, which was perfect because I was having lunch with Madison—not that I needed an out, but I really didn’t want to be over at her house all day—just long enough to see my sweet nephews and most likely get an earful of advice from my sister. So, not having to lie about an appointment would be a good thing.
I took a deep breath in, repeating one of my favorite affirmations—just loud enough so that I could hear the words without also having nearby joggers think that I was some crazy rear-in-the-air lunatic woman talking to herself.
“I am strong. I am perfect just as I am in this moment. I am good enough right now.”
I smiled. Honestly, when Judy had given me the affirmations to do as an assignment early on during our therapy sessions, I’d felt a little silly at first. I didn’t really understand how talking to myself out loud in the mirror was going to change anything about how I was feeling—and back in those early days, I’d been feeling pretty depressed. But I hadn’t considered all the awful things that I’d been saying to myself—about myself—for years.
Before the affirmations exercise, Judy had had me start recognizing when I was having these negative thoughts and writing them down in my journal. It was really an astounding exercise and one I now encouraged all the women in my life to try. I believe that we, as women, are much too hard on ourselves.
Braden knew about my daily affirmations and he never laughed at me when I shared a new one with him. It was something he encouraged his female clients to do also—he’d said his male clients would have nothing to do with it—along with keeping a daily journal about how they were feeling. Braden was really quite evolved—definitely unlike any guy I’d ever met. He was the perfect combination of a macho man with a sensitive side when it was warranted.
Becoming Zara Page 3