What's weighing down

Both my older brothers picked up the hobby of photography when they were teenagers. Today they are very competent and able photographers, and immortalize those moments we regret we forgot. A flower forcing its way through the paved sidewalk, a sunset, a cup of coffee an early morning...

They bought all the equipment needed to develope the pictures themselves, and I remember how they painted lightbulbs red and occupied our spaceous bathroom for hours experimenting with printing lights, developing baths, fixture and developing time. 

Everything was a potential motif, but I somehow often found myself in the strangest of situations because... well, because I was there and easy to order around so they could get the picture they wanted. 

There are numerous pictures stacked somewhere in a box, of me, in black and white. 

Looking at pictures from my childhood, I can tell I was not the most slender kid around, but I was what I would say a normal, healthy and active kid.

As a teenager I turned into a slender and strong young woman; moulded by hard work and an active lifestyle. 

Now, at 44, I am distressed. I feel my children's childhood have been limted because of their overweight mother.

Every summer we seem to end up visiting amusement parks, waterparks and other sporty sites, and I always end up watching what an amazing time they have together, my family, while I watch our stuff and wait.

20 years ago I was up for everything. No challenge was too scary or too hard to at least try.

That was 30 kilos ago. Now I worry my weight will cause speed, direction.... things, you know?, to get all out of control. I am too big to feel funny when I fail.

When I watch commercials on tv, I notice big people are only used as actors when they are promoting a diet, and they show a photoshopped after picture... Or when the person is silly, sorry or a huge failure.

I have been afraid to go on a diet, worried I will fail. I have been afraid to exercise regularly, worried I will give up. I have comforted myself thinking I can still tie my own shoes without sitting down. 

And then I read this:

And then I realized.... most women want to be "perfect" the acceptable way. Just like flawless models that we see on ads or tv shows... I know people who say I am pretty the way I am, and then they always add some of my qualities, not my looks.

And then I think to myself that I am not history yet. I am not bygone. I refuse to call myself old, even though I recognize how I each year discover changes in me.The hope that the changes can be good never dies.
I am more tolerant, I see more of the whole picture. My personality improves, I think, and I really try to accept myself as I am. And even though this is clear to me in a flash of insight I have to admit that in everyday I don't see that. I am not the carefree girl more than willing to be photographed. I am very self conscious because of all my imperfections.

And then I think about women I see every day; women who don't look like models or actresses, and how I vision them is less important to me, than the feeling thinking about them gives me. Each of them has this different aura and charm around her... and thats when I realize, that everyone has their own beauty. It doesn't matter if you're not born perfect. If you take away, photoshop and remove, the imprefections, there's not much left of who you are.

I should participate more, I should offer more of myself to people around me, being big should not make me feel less good for others. And making an effort is really admirable and so much more attractive, opposed to the mere giving up and stop caring.
And I think that starting to feel better about my own worth could make sporting vacations more enjoyable, and chocolate less of a friend.

Rachel put it like this, after she posted a photo on facebook and got unexpected response: