Baby Zebras

Ah, the Zoo.  The penultimate family vacation destination.   A place where small children can run around crazy with the other children and gawk at a variety of animals they would never encounter otherwise.

On our latest sojourn to this fun and educational locale, we selected the Atlanta Zoo as our destination.  My son, as always, loved it.  I too was enjoying this excursion when we happened upon an area set aside for children to explore animal development in real world applications.  For example, you can attempt to lift a handle weighing the same amount a baby, teenage, and then adult elephant can lift.  You can view, through a scope, the difference in the visual acuity of a chick versus an adult Snowy Owl.

And then there's the scale.

I will be the first to tell you that I have NEVER been a small person.  Due to a medical condition, my weight is a forever battle for me.  I know that if I even THINK about falling off the diet wagon and indulging my culinary whims for more than one meal a month, I will be fighting to take the weight back off for several months to come.  It is a battle that I have learned to manage as best I can.

That being said, this area also includes a scale that not only shows your weight; it will also compare your weight to that of an infant or adolescent member of the animal kingdom.  Z thought it was superfun to hear the noise it makes while tortuously slowly easing up the number line and slowly inch ever closer to the heaviest animal on the scale, a baby giraffe.  While I was perfectly content to skip that particular activity, Z would have none of it.  Since he is only three and doesn't quite understand the implications of PCOS and its unforgiving side effects, I decided to indulge him.  And promptly learned that his mommy is roughly the size of a Baby Zebra.

Having come to terms with my condition and what it takes to ensure my weight remains manageable, I can happily say that I didn't fall into a complete depression that ruined the remainder of our trip.  Long ago, I was taught by my mother that the measure of a person's worth is NOT equal to the measure of that person's girth. I am not content with my weight, I never will be.  But I also no longer allow my dress size to dictate how I feel about myself.  I try my best to be a decent and loving person.  I don't always get it right, but I never stop the journey.  I don't beat myself up if I have more than one of the aforementioned "cheat" meals in a month.  I simply allow myself to understand that I am human and take the stairs instead of the elevator.  By allowing myself to be free of the guilt, I am happier and able to show my son that beauty comes in all shapes and sizes.

And, really, aren't stripes supposed to be slimming provided they are vertical??