I hate my body. There I wrote it. Its real. I know this is kind of coming heavy out the gate — but its a pretty deep seated issue into who I am, and where I came from, and went, and went back to, and now I am here. Does that make sense?
Anyway, being 30 is a funny this because your metabolism SUCKS. Okay, not funny. And you kick yourself for not pigging out more when you were younger. At least I do that.
30 is just a weird place in general. Since 25 and hitting my real adult metabolism (how I weighed less and had bigger boobs in college + drink 4 nights out of the week is BEYOND ME) I’ve been at many different varying weights. I would get stressed out and start eating more — or change work schedules and eat less. Or dump a boyfriend and work out like crazy. I think I’ve only once been happy with my body, but I was almost too thin and completely in ketosis the whole time. Then once I got happy and started eating more — weight gain. Fortunately I’ve been pretty stable around my current weight for about 2 years now. Now to be clear I DON’T own a scale. Never have, never will. Might as well keep crack in my apartment…I dont even look at the doctor’s office, because I KNOW that number will sit in the back of my mind and mock me like a 2 year old red headed child.
I realize there is little I can do with aging. I’m going to look older. My thighs are going to touch. My belly is not going to be flat. But thenn I get bored I obsess and look in the mirror and think about how no one could love a person so awkwardly shaped as myself. I have a lovely list of things I keep checked off to hate.
So I’ve moved on to this place of acceptance. Fitspiration tells me I can work harder, sweat more, and spend more time in the gym. But my knees are like “heeeellll nooo giiirl“. I suppose I could do more. Cut out chocolate all together (YEAH RIGHT! HAHAHAHHAA) or stop drink (DO YOU WANT ME TO LOSE MY MIND?!) — but then I think about happiness. And more than flat abs or a million dollars that is all I’ve ever wanted (well satisfaction is more like it really). Being in great shape made me happy — but wasn’t a means to an end. I was obsessed with working out and looking a certain way for awhile. I felt powerful. But it was unhealthy. And I am worse for wear.
So I guess its okay to “hate” my body as long as I treat it well? Which I do. I want to give it what it gives me. Have a good ROI and live to see some grandkids maybe. The biggest thing is GRACE — in all areas of life. And to yourself and your body. Let it not be perfect. Let it be who it wants to be…curves, fleshy bits, muscles, veins, pores, chapped lips, nails, eyelashes, and chins. And with that little bit of grace you will see so much freedom. I guarantee it.