I’ve been writing non-stop for a few days now for other sites with very specific topics and a certain style, so this is a brain dump to flex my other muscles. Or free writing. Okay, free writing. I prefer that.
A few friends and I were discussing how we feel about our bodies, clean eating, diets, exercise, how some of us (ahem, me) cannot possibly give up dairy and things we love such as chocolate, and how certain things work for some, not for others. After all, we all have different bodies, metabolism rates, and lifestyles. What struck me most about this conversation was this – how non-judgmental everyone was, how informed some of us are, how everyone happily shared what worked for them, and offered ideas, encouragement and support.
Then I started combing through old pictures to look for something specific (if you must know, a picture of me in an afro wig – okay, here it is), and I saw what I looked like 6 years ago.
And I thought, damn, I did not appreciate this body back then. I still found fault with it. Today, I don’t look like that. My boobs are not so perky. My arms are definitely flabbier. I haven’t seen my stomach that flat in over 4 years. Yet. Yet. I cannot bring myself to diet, or clean eat, or give up the food I love. I can’t motivate myself to exercise as often as I should. Instead, I bake buttermilk chocolate chip cupcakes. And banana coconut muffins (which you can check out at Scary Mommy!).
Am I happy with my body now? No. Am I miserable with it? Not really. I’m not overweight by any means, but I could look better. Toner. Tighter in areas. But the chocolate. And baked goods. Cake. Dairy.
I suppose more sleep would probably help. Apparently lack of sleep contributes to weight gain, or at least, the inability to lose it. Sleep, overall, is a good thing and I’m not getting enough of it. It’s my fault. I should go to bed earlier. I should take naps. I should get the toddler to sleep through the night. God knows there are a million blog posts and articles out there about this. Heck, I even wrote one this week for Everyday Family (some friends offered me their tips, you should check it out).
I am my own greatest enemy. I self-sabotage at all turns. If my body is my temple, I am desecrating it. Okay, maybe not to that extreme. But I’m definitely not making it fit for prayer. Or something. See, brain dump? Er, free writing. And some heart pouring.
Are you happy with your body?