Theres a phrase in the twittering community “Re-Tweet” or “RT”. Its where you liked something someone else updated their twitter status with so much, that you wanted to share it too. When you see it it looks like this: RT@NotBrit “I love sushi”. Why am I telling you this?

There are many blogs I visit everyday. Its taking me a little while to say that outloud “Hello, my name is Carol and I……. I…… I am a …. blog…reader.” One of my favorites is CJane.

Her life is not the same as mine. I do not live or want to live in Provo, I am not a politicians daughter, I am not a mother of 1, I have never been on national television, let alone interviewed by Matt Laure. I dont have a sister who was in an almost fatal plane crash and I have never had to reach out to strangers and ask for their faith and prayers on my family’s behalf. Yet when I read entries like today’s. It is exactly what I needed to hear, exactly what i know is true, but I needed someone else to say it. Someone who doesnt brush me off. Someone who has been there, and understands. When I read these paragraphs, I just sat and cried…

Some days I cringe when I think of the whole episode. I see myself so vulnerable and lost. Shortly after buying it, I donated the dress to a second-hand store. I couldn’t even see it in my closet and not think about the state of my shapeless body. How much work would I have to do until I could be comfortable again? It was impossible.

But on other days–kind days–I think differently. I think about how soft my body felt at that time. How the children loved to wrap their little arms around it and snuggle with it. I remember my leaking body was everything to a newborn baby and retained the stains of creative extensions. It felt loved by a man, and responded to his touch. Perhaps, this was my glory after all–not Skinny, but Steady. What a better time in my life to have this battled body immortalized on the archives of live television in front of millions of viewers?

Because of this experience, I have come to believe that the God who gave me this body, molds it and moves it into the shape He needs it to be. As long as my form obeys its true function, it will always be the right weight and the right time. And in light of my sister’s fighting body, mine was at least healthy. It should’ve been the last thing on my mind–looking fat on tv–but vanity runs in my veins. I’m afraid.

As I struggle so harshly with the damage I have done to myself over my insecure lifetime, let alone the last 5+ years and as I try to heal from all those mean words, thoughts and labels I have applied to myself, as I try to get healthy again I will remeber: “Perhaps, this is my glory after all – not skinny, but steady.” Steady. I think I can do steady.