I’m not talking about that simple type of self love. I’m talking about the all encompassing, no bull shit, self love.
I have some. I use some. But I don’t have that self love where I can look at myself, directly or in a mirror and accept the body I have. I critique it. I am annoyed by it. I am embarrassed by it. I want to change it. I just don’t like it…
It’s always an internal battle of me telling myself to relax and love my body, while also being so grossed out by my rolls, my cellulite, and my fat. Milo, one of my Coaches at Midtown posted this pic on FB the other day.
My initial reaction was being annoyed that I looked so gross. No makeup. Looking chubby. Cellulite on my legs. Ugly lifting face. Almost a double chin. I could go on and on and critique myself, but I won’t. As I sat there and had these thoughts, all of a sudden I asked myself “Why are you being so mean to yourself?” I literally asked myself that. Because if I heard another woman being so hard on herself, I would have told her to shut up and be proud that she was lifting that weight and in the gym at 5:30AM. Then I got mad at myself for being so mean to ME. Sadly, my first instinct is to pick out my faults (in my opinion), not be proud that I cleaned 80lbs that day.
Even though there are fibers in my being that know I need to love my body, no matter what it looks like, I still don’t. I’m stuck between two worlds – the one that tells us beautiful correlates to skinny and the other that says love yourself no matter what. I want it both ways, but I don’t have either. So, I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, half liking my body, half disgusted by it.
So many improvements, so many things I’d change with one wish. I’m not fishing for compliments, rather wondering if there is anyone else out there that is stuck like me?! I wholeheartedly want to love my body and be proud of it and tell the ‘skinny is beautiful’ thoughts to F off, but I’m not there yet, nor may I ever be.
The world is saturated with different ideals of beauty. But for the most part, I think many of us can agree that our media obsessed culture tends to lean toward the skinny, no pimples, perfectly toned woman as “beauty”. I’m not saying this is what EVERYONE thinks, but this is ingrained into our subconscious minds, multiple times a day without us even knowing. To fight this battle, to see things in more of a realistic way, we have to fight things we don’t even know we are subjected too. That’s all I’m trying to point out here.
The weird thing is, at times I am super proud of my body…even though I may not like it necessarily. I love that it has ran two marathons. I love that I’m in my 30’s and still play soccer multiple times a week. I love that I get my ass to Midtown most mornings and I lift weights or do a million burpees. I love that I can run around the park with all the Lovebugs in my life. I love that I can do so many physical things with my body…but I still don’t like the way it looks. It’s an odd feeling.
If you were to ask me what my ideal weight would be, I would show you this picture:
I was single, running all the time, working out all the time, and eating very limited amounts of food. Although this is the body I’d love to have, I have a different life right now and that lifestyle is not my priority. If I put forth that effort, other important areas of my life would suffer and I’m not willing to make that sacrifice, just to have a body I crave. I wasn’t starving myself, but I wasn’t eating too much either. I did double days a lot, but that was because I was single and didn’t have many obligations. I could get a workout in whenever I wanted too, even a second one, or third one (which probably never even happened).
This isn’t to say that you cannot be in a relationship and have a blended family and not workout. I’m saying that I choose to spend my time differently and not dedicate so much time/energy to working out and focusing just on my weight/body. I would rather be a little fluffier and enjoy time with J and L and do fun thing with them, rather than miss those moments because I was logging miles or lifting more weights. I do NEED to workout for my sanity, but just on different terms.
My 5:30AM Midtown mornings are perfect, when I’m consistent with them. I tend to be good, then fall off — repeat that cycle all the damn time. I’m trying to stay consistent and not let any excuses get in the way, but they always seem to weasel their way in there somehow. Which is why my weight seems to fluctuate so damn much. But in my heart, I know it is because of the choices I make, no one else forces me to do anything. I take full responsibility for my extra fluff and rolls. So here is me currently, we took this pic last week at the gym because we were twinning and of course that needs to be documented:
I look at this and I see an ‘Okay’. I still see a roll and a gut. I still see the the no makeup, au natural look. I see arms that aren’t toned. Again, I could go on and on, but I won’t. Still lots to improve upon, but things this picture won’t tell you is that I played 5 soccer games during the weekend (three tournament games, one full outdoor game, and one indoor game), I went to Midtown five times that week, and I also got a 3 miler in on one of the hottest days of the year.
Why is it easier to admire and support other women, than it is to do so for myself? I wish I had the answer. I have no idea how to stop hating certain attributes of my figure. For now, I will continue (and need) to remind myself to be nicer to ME! My evolution of self love seems to be much slower than I’d like, but I know it is evolving…day by day. Rather than compare myself, yet again to others, I will try to revel in my own growth. Some days are harder than others, but those will be just that, hard days. This isn’t for a lack of support and love from those around me — my family, J (and even L), my friends, even people on social media (some of whom I’ve never met in person). I don’t see what they see. We are our own worst critics, right?! But I do thank them for continuously showing me unconditional love and combat my ability wallow in my own lack of self love.
I want to sit here and tell you to love every inch of yourself, but how can I profess that if I can’t wholeheartedly do that myself. I guess it doesn’t matter, because no matter your weight, your pimples, or your clothes, I chose to see you as a person. Even if I don’t do it for myself, I will give you that opportunity. I will support the women around me, instead of putting them down or being envious of what they have and/or are doing. I wish I could understand why I’d rather help someone else see a better version of themselves, when I don’t take the time to do it for myself. So backwards, I know…
kinda love appreciate my body, even if I want it to look differently…