The Elephant in the Room

Warning:
This post may offend you.

If it does, please stop and pray.

Take a long hard look in the mirror of your soul, and if my words don't apply to you, keep it moving. If they do, still keep it moving--to the nearest fitness center.

There are 33 Oreos in a family pack--34 if you're lucky. A pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream has exactly 5 ice cream scoops in a container.

How do I know this?

I'm a fat girl.

I've been a fat girl my entire life. At least, that is what I've heard just about every doctor tell me in one way or another since the age of 9.

Now, before you go and try to assuage my ego or mount up an opposition to all the size negative 3 women who parade the runways or magazine covers, let me be the first to tell you that I don't suffer in the self-esteem department. I have a Father in heaven who declares that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. And I have a gorgeous husband who confirms God's truth about me each and every day. That said, I have to face reality, and so do my fat sisters out there reading this post.

As a society, we are so ready to affirm everything and everyone that we affirm anything and anyone--even if that thing is killing us.

Despite what Torrid (LOVE THEM), Ashley Stewart (LOVE THEM MORE) or Lane Bryant (LOVE THEM MOST OF ALL) promote in their well placed ads and self-love campaigns, what we are carrying around with us are NOT just curves.

They are fat rolls.

And with them come diabetes. And high cholesterol. And aching knees and joints. And a litany of other lifestyle related health issues associated with obesity.

There it is--I said it. The dreaded "O" word.

Obesity is a growing epidemic in our country and costs us more than $300 billion dollars each year in healthcare treating problems that could be cured if we made the decision to stop euthanizing ourselves with food.

What if we made the simple decision each day to pack a salad instead of stopping thru the drive thru at the nearest fast food restaurant. What if we went ahead and took that parking spot further away from the store entrance and walked instead of spending 15 minutes driving around that same parking lot waiting for someone with a "good spot" to come out and move? What if we swapped that soda for some water? What if?

I have watched just about every woman in my family struggle with obesity. I have struggled with it my entire life. At my heaviest I weighed 282 lbs and was a size 22/24. I'm now down 70 lbs and in a 14/16, but the truth is, I still have a ways to go. But there is a difference in struggling with an issue and allowing that issue to define and rule your life.

Our bodies are temples of God. This is the only earthly tabernacle for the Holy Spirit--God Himself--to dwell. How we treat it matters. It matters to God, and it should matter to us.

It's time for us to stop making excuses for our poor food and exercise choices. We must hold one another accountable rather than affirming and enabling bad habits.

Yes, I understand that there are unhealthy "skinny" people in the world and that genetics play a huge role in our BMI and body types, etc. I also know that while a skinny person's poor eating and exercise habits may be hidden, a fat person's is observable to the naked eye. Does it make it worse? Absolutely not, but it is a visible sign that we need to do something to take charge of our health.

What's my point in this diatribe? If you are a healthy size 18 who can take a flight of steps without growing winded or can hang in a spin or aerobics class without your heart trying to leap out of your chest--more power to you! Ignore this post and keep on doing what you're doing.

If, however, you are like me at a size 14/16--struggling thru my 45 minute spin classes and barely able to do a downward dog in yoga, let's up our water intake, pass on the processed foods, leave the carbs alone and eat clean. Oh! And don't give up on that downward facing dog. It does wonders for the shoulders and the core.

Until next time, may you water bottle always be full, your sneakers handy and a stairwell nearby.

Sincerely,

Jabaria
The Divine Diva

Bathsheba: Innocence Lost

I wanted to use Bathsheba to highlight the plight of "the other woman", but that was not who she was in Scripture. In fact, Bathsheba has probably been assigned one of the most erroneously bad raps in the Bible.

Growing up, I often heard Bathsheba's reputation and character maligned over the sacred desk of the pulpit. She was portrayed as a seductive woman who strategically placed herself in position to woo the King and take the throne as Queen.

However, upon reading Bathsheba's story in 2 Samuel chapter 11 thru the lens of an adult woman and more importantly, an exegetical teacher, that portrayal just doesn't align with the historical and contextual rendering of the Biblical text.

Or, in Diva speak, that ain't how it all went down!

Despite what we may have been taught in church, Bathsheba did not seduce King David. She was not tauntingly bathing so that he could lustfully gaze upon her body; rather, she was cleansing herself ritualistically in the privacy of her courtyard well. (Indoor plumbing and baths were not a part of the culture then.) We don't even know that she was naked as in many Eastern cultures, women remain at least partially clothed during bathing. We know that she was where she was supposed to be.

It was King David who was out of place.

The Bible tells us that it was in the spring when the armies typically went out to battle. As the King and Warrior Chief of Israel, David should have been with his men. When he should have been out with Joab, his Army Commander, strategically planning enemy attacks for Israel, he chose to send them off to war and stay behind to strategically plan on how to get Bathsheba in his bed.

No doubt that King David was in the habit of watching Bathsheba bath. He probably often arose from his afternoon nap and went to his rooftop to gaze upon her and had made a habit of watching her. His habits began to affect his character, and after a period of time, he decided to make his fantasies about her a reality.

It was not seduction on the part of Bathsheba that caused the King's moral downfall, but rather a malfunction in David's own character that led to his sin. He did not guard his eyes, and the more he looked, the more he wanted what he saw. So it is with us. That is why Jesus warns us in Matthew 6:22 about our eyes being the lamp to the whole body. We must guard what we allow into the eye-gate of our souls.

To David, Bathsheba was just another possession to be acquired-she was beautiful, and after watching her bath from atop his palace rooftop, he so desired her, he went to great lengths to get her. He even had her husband, Uriah, murdered for her.

Bathsheba had little control of her situation. Who tells a King, "No" when he has summoned you to his bed? Bathsheba's innocence and her virtue were taken from her.

We never hear her side of the story.

As a woman and a mother, I can relate to the violation she must have felt being forced to lay with a man whom she knew nothing about other than his role as King. I can relate to the pain she must have felt when she got news that her husband had been killed, and I grieve with her over the death of her firstborn son which was conceived in the sin of rape.

But even in her loss of innocence, God had a plan and purpose for her. For thru her came the wisest King who ever lived--King Solomon.  And King Solomon honored her. In 1 Kings 2:19, it says that when she went in to talk with him about his brother, Adonijah, the king stood up and bowed down to her. He even had a throne brought in for her. No other woman is shown such great honor in Scripture. God restored her honor through her son!

She is a matriarch in the line of Christ having birthed two sons linked to the lineage of the Messiah--King Solomon thru whom the Savior would come and Nathan who Luke records in the lineage of Jesus's earthly father, Joseph.

For all my Divas who have lost their innocence to men who did not care how their actions impacted us, know that God cares. Know that he cares about the physical, emotional and mental scars that have been seared into our souls. He cares about walls we have built to avoid intimacy.

He sees and He cares.

And He has a plan and a purpose for our pain. Just as Bathsheba's loss was recouped through her legacy, so will your loss be overshadowed by the anointing God will pour out on your life. He will send people around you to help tear down walls and love you through your pain--if you allow Him to. He will love you as only He can, and in the process of loving you, you will learn to love again, too.

So until next time, I pray that your heart will heal from the pain of your past, that you will regain your sense of purpose, and that you will receive the grace that God has for your life.

In and for His service,

Jabaria
The Divine Diva

This Elephant's Journey

"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but we rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty." Maya Angelou

"Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." Proverbs 31:30

Most people who've met me would declare that I am a bold, self-confident, Diva-like woman with a personality larger than life. I tend to command a room and can secure the attention and respect of people at all levels and from all backgrounds. I have my father's passion, charisma and ability to instantly connect with people and my mother's open heart and comedic knack. I am a story-teller, and I have a pretty good track record of getting my way in most arenas.

That I am pretty, I have always been sure. My father told me every day as a little girl that I was his "pretty girl", and everyone commented on my "good hair" and pretty skin. But beautiful--that descriptor always eluded me, because in order to be beautiful, you had to have the complete package--the body, the looks and the style.

I had two out of three.

My closet was and is stuffed beyond capacity with the latest styles and trends. From the little black dress to the now trending colored jeggings. I have every "seasonal palette" that has come thru Fashion Week since 2000. Despite the constant cries of my knees, I refuse to let go of my stilettos because they place me right above the invisible line dividing me from the masses of short fat girls. I have so many accessories that my friends by-pass the mall and call me when they need the perfect earrings/necklace for the balls or when they need a style makeover. I'm good at reinventing my look. I'm even better at hiding beyond the facade of it.

A self-proclaimed "fat girl in remission", I have struggled with food addiction, self-esteem and body image issues for as long as I can remember. As a little girl, I watched with a sense of desperation and despair as the Miss USA contestants--all 5'9" or taller with gazelle-like legs and seemingly flawless skin glided with ease across stages and down runways while I clumsily ambled from place to place feeling trapped in my 5'3" plus-sized frame, just trying to not to start a forest fire with my thighs that made their own flint  strike every time they rubbed back and forth against one another, all while praying that that I didn't fall over my own two pigeon-toed feet that jutted awkwardly down from my ever-knocking knees.

Then there was food...

My love affair with food dates back to my earliest recollection--it was a secret
love affair that took place after everyone had gone to bed and I could be alone with no one to remind me of how I didn't need to eat this or how I should limit that. Blue Bell and Oreos topped my list of lovers, and they beckoned me throughout the day as I opened the refrigerator to retrieve a Lean Cuisine or Weight Watchers meal for everyone to see me eat.  As we exchanged longing glances, I secretly whispered a promise of a later rendezvous and began counting the hours until we could be alone together.

Finally the house fell silent and the darkness shrouded me in safety as I eased into the kitchen to devour my lovers, each bite a little bit of heaven that would quickly spiral into a world of hell.

As soon as we'd finished, a wave of guilt, shame and nausea would overtake me and I'd find myself at the foot of yet another secret lover--the toilet. At the altar of what I now understand to be bulemia, I would purge my sin and watch it being washed away, and after making my penitent puke of remembrances, the cycle began again. This continued well into college.

Even after having the opportunity to model in high school and college, I never felt secure in my own skin. I knew that something needed to change, but I didn't know how to go about doing it. My life became an endless cycle of fad diets, sporadic Spartan-like exercise regimens and bouts of bulimia. By young adulthood, I'd resigned myself to my fate of fatness, blaming my progenitors for my BMI that placed me in the rejected realm of obesity. My lack of inner self confidence and sense of self-worth led me to marry a man who loved me dearly as his best friend, but who was not romantically attracted to me, nor I to him, thus making for a very long and difficult eight year marriage riddled with issues and addiction, mine being anything with a caloric count associated with it.

After answering my call to the preaching ministry, my weight became an asset as women preachers are oftimes regarded as asexual beings anyway. I wore my weight like a blanket. It covered and protected me from having to deal with the social and sometimes scandalous trappings found within ecclesiastical walls.

Besides, with my marriage crumbling, food became my crutch. I love to cook, and so while waiting for my now ex-husband to come home at night, Williams & Sonoma and I would prepare a gourmet three course meal--and then eat it. All of it.

Reality Check

By the time I moved back home with my parents, I tipped the scale at a whopping 282 lbs. Something had to give. In 2012, I underwent what some would call a cosmetic procedure, but for me, it was the first step to me coming to terms with the reality of my situation. After losing and initial 35 lbs, I began to set goals for myself and my health. Watching my parents suffer from lifestyle related illnesses that could have been prevented/healed, spurred me to take control of my weight from a health perspective.

Then vanity set it. For whatever reason, I deluded myself into thinking that I could be skinny after all. For the first time in my life, I could be regarded as "the fine Willis sister", a title long held by my little sister, Jamana. Never able to attain that size 10, I grew increasingly frustrated and the yo-yo began again.

On my 35th birthday, I threw what India Arie would call my own "Private Party" and had a come-to-Jesus-meeting with myself. Standing naked in front of my full-length mirror, I came to terms with the fact that I would never look Beyonce'--EVER.

It was in that moment of truth and self acceptance that I fell in love with my body--lumps, bumps, jiggly bits and all.

I thanked God for hips that could bear children without complications and breasts that have nursed, nurtured and and comforted my child; for arms that are caring and wide enough to embrace a second child not born of my womb yet strong enough to to lift babies for blessing and gentle enough to lend a soothing touch in ministry. I expressed my gratitude for my stomach that was scarred from giving birth and from enduring the years of stress I'd put it through with fad diets and eating disorder; for legs that were built to hold me up and for "cankles" that ensured my feet would not give under the pressure of my weight at my heaviest. I even thanked God for the DNA that made my body possible--my granny's varicose veins, and my mamas legs and knees--soft, warm and squishy like a elephants--that were attached to hips and butts that beckoned back to my furthest roots in Africa. Most of all, I thanked Him for a smile that betrays the struggle of my past. The struggle of never feeling good enough, pretty enough or skinny enough.

I even thanked God for the struggle because in the struggle I found my strength--His joy.

And so today, at 38 years old, I've settled into my plus-sized frame and size 16 jeans. My joy is no longer found in a flat stomach or well defined abs (which I've never attained). It's not found in airbrushed thighs or photo-shopped waistlines.

My joy is found in preaching and teaching God's Word; in sharing good food and laughter with my family and friends; in hitting the gym every morning to get a good cleansing sweat in before beginning my day; in a good night's rest, knowing that I did my best to care for the the only earthly temple God has given me. So, the elephant in the room is no longer a problem for me. I don't ignore her--I embrace her, and encourage her to step tall in her stilettos--in all their various forms.

Until the Divas meet again,

Jabaria
The Divine Diva