it's complicated.

Are New Year's resolutions still a thing in late April? Asking for myself.

Aforementioned: We’ve all read countless blogs about women who struggle to find themselves beautiful, and at the end succeed. This isn’t exactly one of those. But it’s not not that either.

You might be surprised at the level I’ve mentally struggled with my weight. I never verbalized it other than the occasional self-deprecating joke. I’m confident. I wear whatever I like and don’t give much thought to how “flattering” something is. I’ve never felt like I’m ugly / unattractive / undesirable. Instead, I’ve often felt the opposite of those things.

That being said, every single year that I have been cognizant of New Year resolutions, (so… 10 years old?) I have made a resolution to lose weight. Often arbitrarily- 10 lbs. 20 lbs. 30 lbs. And everything in between. I’ve tried a myriad of diets, some fad, some more reliable. I have done nearly every variation of Weight Watchers. Whole30. MACRO counting. Keto. Atkins. Calorie counting. Not to mention, I’m a pretty dedicated dieter - I take them seriously and don’t cheat. Yet somehow, I only lose a certain amount of weight, usually about 25 lbs, and then plateau, give up, gain the weight back, and then repeat the cycle over the next 6 months. It’s an exhausting process that leads to body hate, discouragement, and a whole lotta tears.

At the end of last year, after I spent the majority of the year working out EVERY SINGLE DAY (no really, I worked out ~200 days in a row), making sure to always burn at least 600 calories (but often more), I realized I was still not seeing the results I so desperately wanted. I felt so discouraged. And irritable. And was spending way too much time calculating what I could and couldn’t eat.

(I need to add something here - I absolutely loved working out 99% of the time. I made great friends, and really learned what kind of exercise I enjoy vs. what I don’t. The issue was that I was working out with a specific goal in mind rather than working out because it made me feel better and I enjoyed it, so it was fraught with disappointment.)

And my poor husband Colin, he was put through the wringer.

Colin has never been anything other than vocal about loving my body exactly the way she is. He didn’t understand why I was putting all this pressure on myself to get to a certain size + weight. But YIKES. When he’d tell me these kinds things, I’d tell him he wasn’t being supportive of me trying to achieve my goals (horrible, I know). And then, when he’d suggest that we not (see previous conversation) stop for milkshakes (the comfort food of all comfort foods) when I was feeling discouraged and wanting to give up, my sin nature would rear her head in all her nasty glory, and hell would break loose. (Colin is a saint who tells me daily I’m gorgeous, and I don’t deserve him.)

At some point recently, Colin and I had a discussion about whether or not I had a hormone imbalance that was interfering with my weight loss, and suggested going to the doctor. For some reason, this was a real crossroads for me. I didn’t want to get blood work done, deal with doctors, or starting taking medication because of my poor body image.

Finally, I put my proverbial foot down, and started making a conscious decision to be kinder to my body and appreciate her for what she is.  She’s a little soft in the middle and her thighs touch, but man, she can do hard things. I don’t need Colin to call one of his friends every time I want to rearrange the furniture.  My legs can carry me for miles. My arms are more than able - they can wand every hair on my head (and babes, you know that’s no joke haha).

My body is good + capable + worthy of pride. And her appearance should not define my confidence.

I still work out weekly. Not daily, but enough to keep getting stronger + healthier.

Now, my goal is no longer a certain weight or pant size, but to be strong and healthy. I work out because I feel better afterwards. I make healthy choices ~80% of the time, and fully enjoy the other 20% of the time, mostly guilt free (still working on this part).

I remember that in high school, it wasn’t uncommon for me to have silently judged a girl who was wearing clothing that showed part of her that I thought should have been covered. (This wasn’t about modesty. This was more about how “she shouldn’t be wearing those shorts because her legs aren’t toned”.) Talk about a nasty worldview that is ultimately rooted in insecurity - because had I loved my own body, I would have been able to love the “imperfect” parts of others.

During college I began having a shift in how I viewed other women and their bodies. I wrote SO MANY PAPERS about the societal pressures on women based solely on their appearance. I presented on it, discussing the dangers of unrealistic expectations both mentally and physically on women. But somehow, what I was preaching was solely for other women, and it never became my own truth. Even though I was able to support other women’s bodies, I wasn’t able to support my own. Some of this was nature. Some of it was nurture. All of it was wrong.

But here we are now, April of 2019, and I’ve decided to make what I know to be true in my head, also be true in my heart. I’m going to start being kinder about my body, and more accepting of other bodies, even the ones that don’t line the pages of Vogue. My body is great the way she is, but she should never define my worth.

Try as I might, there’s no clear ending to this post. I’m not done with this weird / complex / complicated journey to learning to find confidence outside of body image + the delicate issue of self-acceptance… but a little transparency never hurt anyone, right? And as women, I’d much rather take this complicated journey together.

xx