I like my body.
For the first time ever in my life I really like my body.
This was realized yesterday morning when I was perusing some of my old before/during/after pictures and was surprised at how I used to look. Sometimes I forget that I ever looked like that. When I was a size 24/26/28/30, I knew I was a bigger woman, but I had the ability I see myself differently than I see my former self when I look back now. I don’t see myself in her anymore; she’s a totally different person. Somehow, I had no idea that I was that large, somehow my ability to hide things from myself even came with some lovely mirror blinders that allowed me to see myself as an 18/20 rather than the truth. It’s funny how I could fool myself into thinking that weighing 340 was really being just ‘kind-of’ chubby and a ‘little bit’ fat. It’s really surprising. I thought I was so much more honest with myself than I was actually being.
When I went downstairs, after looking at my pictures, I started talking a little bit to my daughter about this and that, and somehow it came up that she knows I don’t like my body. I was so surprised that she so clearly ‘knew’ I didn’t like my body because I know I LOVE my body!
My body is strong and healthy! I can run, dance, do planks, do burpees, wall-sits, sit-ups, push ups (but not pull-ups yet)! I love the shape of my body now. I realized that I’m quite happy sitting in the 199-203 range. I’m capable and cute, I can shop in any store, yet I am not slender to the point that I look weird for my age. I feel like I’m doing my forties way better than I did my thirties. And frankly? I think I’m pretty for the first time ever. So not only do I feel strong and capable, I feel cute too. I love my body and myself for the first time ever… Really, I’m allowing myself to fall in love with the outside of myself for the first time ever, and it’s not a moment too soon. Life is too short to be hating on someone so important.