Main Character Energy

I had a thought after attending the wedding of one of my closest people over this past weekend.

I've waited my whole life to be this fabulous.

I tried to banish the thought from my mind, because it doesn't sound humble. I was taught to be humble at all costs, and admitting that I'm fabulous is pretty much the opposite of that.

But, for so long, I've felt typecast in my own life. If you're not a theatre person, you might not understand that metaphor, so let me break it down for you.

Fat folks -- and fat women in particular -- are rarely cast as the main character in theatre productions or even in movies or television. They're comic relief, or, "character roles." Ursula in "The Little Mermaid," for example. When I was in ninth grade, I played neurotic mother extraordinaire, Mae Peterson, in "Bye Bye Birdie." At age 15! I don't fault my director for that, as she and I are still close -- years after I graduated from high school. And I did (and still do) have comedic timing that not many teenagers possess. But... at a smaller weight than I am now, I still felt as though I got to play the "fat part." I made it memorable, but that's not the point. I wanted to play the pretty girl.

Of course, I've come a long way from my high school theatre days. I have embraced playing comedic roles that few others can play, no matter my size. I'll always love playing those roles. I've given cabaret performances of "Poor Unfortunate Souls" sung of course by Ursula herself; of Miss Hannigan's iconic "Little Girls" number from "Annie;" of "Diva's Lament/Whatever Happened to My Part?" from "Spamalot;" and I've sung multiple songs from the only musical in which the main character is fat: "Hairspray." Ask me to sing "Little Girls" seven days a week and I'll do it every time. The roles, on a stage, are fun.

But, in my real life, I don't want to play Miss Hannigan or Ursula. And I certainly don't want to play Tracey Turnblad from "Hairspray" anymore -- I won't even sing her songs on stage at this point. I want to play Elle Woods. Leslie Knope from TV's "Parks and Recreation." Lynda Carter AKA Wonder Woman. Galinda from "Wicked." And I went through my Mia Thermopolis phase as a teenager, but I'm done with her too -- even though she ends up as the Queen of Genovia and Julie Andrews aka Queen Clarice reminds me a LOT of my beloved Grandma.

I always knew there was an attractive badass inside of me, but she always felt that she had to overwork herself to get noticed. I still do overwork myself, but I do because I feel like an attractive badass -- not because I feel like hard work is my only claim to fame. I recently won a series of workout classes at NXT4 Life Training in Glen Head, and in my first class, I was able to keep up with all of the other attendees. I honestly couldn't believe it -- some of the exercises were truly difficult. Even a year and a half ago, I would have probably needed a medic! Now, I'm enough of a badass to keep up.

In my real life, I wanted to play those roles in the past. I always loved the character of Elle Woods -- and I always felt like we were similar, but just... not quite. Somehow I fell short, in spite of my Master's degree and my willingness to work hard. In the past, I've said that I felt shallow for the fact that weight loss has made me feel better about myself and appearance. It has felt horribly fatphobic to have those thoughts. Colleen, my therapist, loves to say that I need to love myself at any size -- but the truth is that, I didn't.

However... I am wondering if the fact that I now feel like I actually AM a character more like Elle Woods or Galinda instead of Ursula or Miss Hannigan has to do with the fact that I am FIT, rather than the fact that my body is smaller. Am I a badass because I lost 90 lbs, or am I badass because I can run two miles without stopping? Being fit has made me feel as though I finally have the outside confidence that matches the inside personality. My body is performing how I never thought it was capable of performing -- and not just on the stage, but my singing voice only gets better with improved breath control. Two years ago, workout classes and completing a 5K in 43 minutes and 45 seconds felt completely out of reach -- and now, they're realities. Not only did these accomplishments feel out of reach, but they were so out of reach that they were goals I didn't even know were goals.

I still want to be a hard worker, and not just in the gym. I still have a difficult time setting boundaries. And sometimes, I still have imposter syndrome. But at the wedding over the weekend, I felt like... myself. It's been happening more and more. And, I don't have to try so hard to be the person I've always wanted to be. Trying hard and working hard are two different entities, and I've had them confused for a long time. Working hard helps me to run this blog while staying in my day job and my side job and sing and work on campaigns and... you get the picture. Working hard is the effort I give in a workout class or on a run. Working hard is consistently putting my best foot forward as a wife, dog mom, daughter, friend, niece, aunt, daughter-in-law, godmother, and community concerned citizen. But trying hard... feels forced. As though, I was putting in massive amounts of effort to simply be myself. The tape that played in my head was that I had to compensate for my appearance. For my lack of fitness. For the fact that I couldn't even walk down my driveway without huffing and puffing the whole way. For taking up far too much space.

I've never spoken about this issue on here before, but in addition to a lifetime as a food addict, I used to drink -- a lot. People who abuse alcohol (at least in my experience) don't just "drink socially." They, as I did for some time, drink to get drunk. When I was drunk on the reg, I felt uninhabited. Imposter syndrome was nowhere in sight and I was the life of the party. Insecurities be damned. It didn't matter that I was fat; I laughed, flirted, said things that I'd never say sober, and felt sure of myself for once. And... I didn't have to try so hard. I could take up space and the fact that I wasn't any level of fit was okay. Alcohol took away the need for that level of effort to simply be myself.

I haven't been drunk in over ten years, as my habit was unhealthy and hurt too many people who love me. My own husband has never even seen me intoxicated. But I'd be lying if over the past ten years, I didn't crave those feelings at times. Prior to present-day, I've never felt more sure of myself as I do when I'm on stage, playing Miss Hannigan or Ursula... or as I did when I was drunk.

At the wedding, I felt those feelings return. I was completely sober. I wasn't playing a character. I was wearing a fabulous dress that two years ago would have been a pipe dream, as no one makes it in the size I was then (again, a whole separate conversation). I danced with my people and didn't feel out of breath or that I had no stamina left to continue. My feet and legs didn't feel as though they were about to fall off. I love how Anthony and I look in the photos from the day (when my hubby gets dressed up... let's say I'm a FAN). And I saw a number of people who I haven't seen in a long time who all... noticed. Not only did they notice, but I wasn't consumed with thoughts of what they were thinking about how I looked. The best part was that I enjoyed the food -- but when I was up dancing, and the waitstaff took my unfinished brownie away, I didn't even care. It was just a brownie. It was delicious, but in the past, I would have compulsively hunted down a replacement. No need this time; my friends were more important.

Yes, weight loss has been a life-changing experience for me. And I've already established just how freeing life without food noise is. But my newest revelation is that becoming fit has helped me to become the main character I've always wanted to play. Not on stage, mind you. In real life.