Body Wars

i have a pretty amicable relationship with my body. there aren’t any areas that i would say i “hate.” and i’m pretty proud of that fact. it’s not easy not to loath your parts. it’s certainly not taught.

the things that i got teased for most as a kid were my height, which i’ve grown to appreciate, my nose, which i’ve decided to embrace as proof of my lineage (and as an extra tall slice of ‘fuckem,’ i pierced it years ago to show the middle school bullies that i’m SO not afraid of drawing attention to it i’ll hang ornaments off the side!) and my large breasts….which, you know….kids are dumb.

(these days, incidentally, the thing i get teased for most is my flat, junk-less trunk. there’s been talk that it might actually be inverted. it would require many squats to fix-and so, i’m at peace with it.).

i think that i am so down with my body, in all its high’s and low’s because i recognize that it was designed by God and i don’t want to be a total prick and insult Him by insulting it. also, i almost died a few years ago, so having a healthy body, even if aesthetically imperfect, is pretty friggin great. and because it’s just SO cliche and draining and sabotaging to women to fret over body flaws. i strive to get over it. find higher plane issues to focus on. get more fit, but if it can’t be healthily improved on, i’ve got what i’ve got, embrace it. be confident. get sexy that way. you know?

but…as enlightened as i think i am about embracing all of my body’s assets and flaws….i’m not loving how dumpy i feel right now.

it took my 9 months to lose all the weight i gained last pregnancy. and i keep trying to remind myself that. and it was really hard work. i was tracking every bite i took with myfitnesspal app and running several times/week, training for half marathons and such. all the assholes say “oh! you’re breastfeeding! it should just fall right off then.”

allegedly, i guess that’s true. it burns some 500 calories/day. but i have no problem still exceeding my daily allotment. no problem at all. i’d tell those assholes just that, but little bits of donuts might fly out of my mouth while i’m yelling. and that would be rude.

so i still have this floppy, stretched out pannus (fat apron, for those in the ‘biz’) and still look about 6 months pregnant. and now it’s been 8 weeks since bananner showed up.

so it’s bumming me out. almost enough to actually start calorie counting and running regularly.

almost. but not quite. today alone has involved pancakes, french fries, donuts, cake and wine.

i can’t type all that into myfitnesspal! it would obviously break the program.

but i figure if i publicly declare my intention to start actively trying to lose (and list my weight loss, in pounds, on the right side of this blog page- scroll down. down. down. there it is!), maybe i’ll be more inclined to focus.

but meanwhile, i’m going to say and think nice things about my body. i am thanking it for what it did, in safely growing and delivering these two spectacular people into the world and feeding them straight breast pudding to help them grow huge and strong.

and i’m not going to talk shit about my body in front of my daughter. that’s a promise. it’s also a discussion for another time.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *