Big Sexy

A few months ago Honey and I were in Asheville for a little R & R. Driving along the highway, we came up behind a white Lexus SUV and covering the back window was "Big Sexy" written in flowery, white script. We sped up and moved alongside the SUV and there on the side window was "Big Sexy" written again. Curiosity was killing us as we pulled up closer to the driver's side window and we started craning our necks so that we could see this person who had deemed herself "Big Sexy". Being extremely subtle about it, we finally pulled alongside and indeed, she was Big and she was Sexy. We laughed and went on our way, making the occasional Big Sexy reference throughout the rest of the trip, simply a little personal joke for us to share.

I think about Big Sexy every once in a while and I'm envious of the sheer balls that it takes to proclaim yourself "Big Sexy" for the all world to see. Because not a day goes by that I don't beat up on myself for my weight OR what I've eaten OR the amount of exercise that I (did or didn't) get OR the way my clothes fit... I've been in a constant losing battle with myself for as long as I can remember. And it sucks.

I mean really, there are so many things in my life as a working mother/wife that I can legitimately feel guilty about, for example:

• Not knowing the last time Shorty took a shower.
• Not having anything in the house to eat because I haven't gone to the grocery store in 2 weeks.
• Not realizing that what Honey really needed was for me to be his cheerleader, not his drill sergeant.
• Realizing on Monday morning that none of us has clean underwear.

Those are things to feel kind of guilty about...but I can pretty easily forgive myself for stuff like this. In fact, I'm pretty laid back and forgiving about most things, whether it's me or someone else, I mean we're all just doing the best we can, right? But when it comes to my body and weight I'm brutal to myself, in a way that I would never, ever be to anyone else (even my ex-MIL or Gwynyth Paltrow).

And I'm not the only one, I can't think of a single woman I know who is completely happy with her body. And I have to say...my friends are total babes!

I know that these aren't original thoughts or issues. Books and articles galore have been written on the topic, Oprah and Dr. Phil have done countless shows, and there are more diets out there than people in China. But none offer a real solution or a magic fix and I've just sort of accepted it as part of my psyche.

Until this week, when Shorty told me that within her group of friends, girls have been calling themselves and each other fat. They're 8. And I have to wonder, did our own self-hatred and discontent get transferred to them, because even if I never say a single word about it in front of her, guilt this pervasive has to be obvious on a subliminal level.

So I'm going to start being nicer to myself because this isn't what I want for my daughter. As she grows up, no matter what her size, I want her to always know, without any doubt, that she's Big Sexy.

But it will be ok if she doesn't write it on her car.