When insecurities take over.

Lovie and I stopped at the park yesterday. It was the first time in a week we've been. In fact, one week ago we were there and she was wearing a sun dress and floppy sun hat and yesterday she was adorned in a hoodie, jean jacket, and knit hat! Gotta love Chicago weather.

Anyway, not many people were there. In fact there was only one other mom there with her two boys, probably around 3 and 6.

They spoke a different language and the mom reminded me of what Posh Spice would look like with blond hair. I felt really uncomfortable and truth be told, I wasn't a fan of the uncomfortable feeling.

Here's the thing: we pulled up and parked at the same time. She in her huge Lexus SUV with gold emblems, me in my tiny gas friendly car. We got out of the cars at the same time and unloaded our kids at the same time, too. She stood at about 5'10, very thin, bleach blond short and straight pixie style hair, expensive looking casual wear, huge bug eyed sunglasses covering half her face. Honest to god I just immediately thought of Posh. Then her boys came out wearing their GAP hooded sweatshirts with their long brown thick and wavy hair falling in their face as they ran with glee toward the playground.

And then there was me standing in at 5'4, morbidly obese, long dark brown hair with silver white streaks piled atop my fat head, wearing an old hoody sweatshirt to try to cover the large rolls that are my breasts and stomachs (yes plural) and huge mofo ass. Then Lovie looking adorable and tiny compared to my fat ass toddled beside me.

I just felt soooo huge. And poor.

It wasn't so bad until the younger boy wanted to swing on the baby swings (even though he could and was swinging on the regular swings on the other side of the playground) where Lovie and I were. That also brought the bigger boy (who couldn't even fit into the baby swings so only his ass was inside) and their mom, who finally put down her Starbucks cup and put her phone away.

She smiled at Lovie and commented that she was super cute (Lovie smiling at her smiling of course) and asked if she was 1.

Then she pushed her little boy higher and higher and higher and everyone was laughing and having a gay old time while Lovie just stared on and I continued to gently push Lovie with my fat hands attached to my fat arm attached to my morbidly obese frame that was trying to be hidden unsuccessfully under a button up hoodie.

Ugh.

I just know she wanted to know if I was her mother.

I just know she wondered if I was feeding her healthy foods or shit food that I must devour and bathe in.

I just know she wondered if Lovie would end up fat like me.

I just know she was felt sorry for Lovie because she was cute and sweet and had a fat fuck of a mother who drove a tiny car and dressed in shambles.

Blargh.

I know we all have our insecure moments. And, for the most part, I really don't have many... but when I do, boy does it bring me down and make me feel like a big pile of poop.

I need to work on this. Yes, I'm working on decreasing my size so that I can shop in regular clothing stores again, but in the meantime, I really need to work on reacting more positively when the insecurities get the best of me again because I cannot let my faults prevent Lovie from having the best Momma she deserves. 

I mean, seriously, who knows what that woman was thinking or if she even noticed me at all! And, even if she did think those thoughts, what does it matter? The only thing that matters is Lovie- and that I be the best, most secure, most loving and nurturing Momma for her... Lovie.