Let's talk about our bods.
I don't know about you, but I am tired of hating mine.
Now this may be a super girly and maybe kind of boring blog post, but I feel like it is a topic that is talked about so much and yet we live in a society where girls despise the body they are walking around in.
I have always struggled with body image. I'm pretty private about it, so my fingers surprised even me when I typed the first sentence of this post. I'm not writing this for people to comment on it with things like "Ohhhh Molly..you are so skinny!" or other responses that people generally feed people who are fishing for compliments.
I am not fishing for anything. You don't even need to finish reading this. I just feel like this is something I need to get out there. So here goes.
I will always remember the first time I felt the sharp pain of hatred towards my body. When we were little we had a big box of dress ups that we kept in our basement and my sisters and I would spend hours upon hours changing identities with the help of dusty hats and sparkling costume jewelry. Not only were we well supplied with accessories, but we had a vast array of old fashioned dresses that we absolutely adored.
I can still see the dress.
I can't remember exactly how old we were, but we were approaching the age where playing dress ups wasn't 'cool' anymore. Time was running out! We had to take advantage of all of our remaining time of our youthful freedom.
I lifted the dress out of the box. It was a long, pink dress with a giant bow adorning the back and fabric that whispered whenever you moved. My favorite. I eagerly climbed into the dress, my imagination already churning as I imagined myself as a glamorous movie star or perhaps a princess from a far away land. I reached back to zip the zipper.....
I managed to get it halfway. My heart stopped.
I slowly unzipped the pinching zipper as I felt my eyes fill with tears. It was hard to believe that only a few seconds ago I didn't have a care in the world. Now my mind was filled with one word.
Fat.
Now this unfortunate incident occurred years and years ago, but it impacted me enough for me to carry it around this long. Us girls don't just forget that kind of stuff.
So why are we so traumatized by this? Why do we keep the number on the scale such a well kept secret? Why does jean shopping send us into a deep state of depression?
Well, I'll tell you why.
We are programmed that way.
And I'm sick of it.
Who says the size of your jeans is directly related to how happy you are?
Since when did starving yourself become sexy?
Who determined this?
I have recently accepted the fact that I am never going to be 'skinny'. I will probably never be able to pull off skinny jeans and I will never squeeze into an 'xsmall'...well, anything.
I'm alright with this.
You see, I have come to the conclusion that the kind of people I want to surround myself with aren't going to be the type that care. The kind of guy I want to attract isn't going base his pursuit of me off of my BMI just like I am not going to determine my feelings by how 'ripped' he is or his capability of being a Hollister model. Come on now.
I would be lying if I said am completely past my self confidence troubles. I have so far to go. But I am proud of how far I have gotten and I feel so much more....content with myself. In fact, as I have embarked on this self accepting journey, I have not only grown stronger mentally but physically as well.
I realized that prior attempts to lose weight have been all about trying to impress people. Look good in my prom dress. Find a boyfriend. Blahhh, blahh, blah. This time is different though. I have been working out because it makes me feel good.
Because my goal isn't 'skinny' anymore.
It's 'healthy'.
Every pound I lose is met with celebration, but also with a dose of reality. I have to remind myself to be constantly checking myself and my motives to losing the weight. I refuse to fall into the same state of mind I have so often been in before. The same that I have watched others be consumed by. That's no way to live.
So girls. If nothing else of this long and ranting post has stuck with you, please note this. Before you decide to lose weight, you need to accept yourself first. If you feel like you can't accept who you are if you hate what you see in the mirror, then you may be confused by who your 'self' is. She is living on the inside, ladies! You can bounce from a size 16 to a size 2 and you are still going to be the same person. Weight loss isn't going to fix that.
Alright, well this has gotten to be a lot longer than I anticipated. It's just been something that I have been thinking about a lot lately, and I feel like its a topic that can't be emphasized enough.
Have a glorious day :)
PS. I am going to the pool today. I am wearing a bikini. I only feel slightly terrified at this thought. :) This is progress people!!
I don't know about you, but I am tired of hating mine.
Now this may be a super girly and maybe kind of boring blog post, but I feel like it is a topic that is talked about so much and yet we live in a society where girls despise the body they are walking around in.
I have always struggled with body image. I'm pretty private about it, so my fingers surprised even me when I typed the first sentence of this post. I'm not writing this for people to comment on it with things like "Ohhhh Molly..you are so skinny!" or other responses that people generally feed people who are fishing for compliments.
I am not fishing for anything. You don't even need to finish reading this. I just feel like this is something I need to get out there. So here goes.
I will always remember the first time I felt the sharp pain of hatred towards my body. When we were little we had a big box of dress ups that we kept in our basement and my sisters and I would spend hours upon hours changing identities with the help of dusty hats and sparkling costume jewelry. Not only were we well supplied with accessories, but we had a vast array of old fashioned dresses that we absolutely adored.
I can still see the dress.
I can't remember exactly how old we were, but we were approaching the age where playing dress ups wasn't 'cool' anymore. Time was running out! We had to take advantage of all of our remaining time of our youthful freedom.
I lifted the dress out of the box. It was a long, pink dress with a giant bow adorning the back and fabric that whispered whenever you moved. My favorite. I eagerly climbed into the dress, my imagination already churning as I imagined myself as a glamorous movie star or perhaps a princess from a far away land. I reached back to zip the zipper.....
I managed to get it halfway. My heart stopped.
I slowly unzipped the pinching zipper as I felt my eyes fill with tears. It was hard to believe that only a few seconds ago I didn't have a care in the world. Now my mind was filled with one word.
Fat.
Now this unfortunate incident occurred years and years ago, but it impacted me enough for me to carry it around this long. Us girls don't just forget that kind of stuff.
So why are we so traumatized by this? Why do we keep the number on the scale such a well kept secret? Why does jean shopping send us into a deep state of depression?
Well, I'll tell you why.
We are programmed that way.
And I'm sick of it.
Who says the size of your jeans is directly related to how happy you are?
Since when did starving yourself become sexy?
Who determined this?
I have recently accepted the fact that I am never going to be 'skinny'. I will probably never be able to pull off skinny jeans and I will never squeeze into an 'xsmall'...well, anything.
I'm alright with this.
You see, I have come to the conclusion that the kind of people I want to surround myself with aren't going to be the type that care. The kind of guy I want to attract isn't going base his pursuit of me off of my BMI just like I am not going to determine my feelings by how 'ripped' he is or his capability of being a Hollister model. Come on now.
I would be lying if I said am completely past my self confidence troubles. I have so far to go. But I am proud of how far I have gotten and I feel so much more....content with myself. In fact, as I have embarked on this self accepting journey, I have not only grown stronger mentally but physically as well.
I realized that prior attempts to lose weight have been all about trying to impress people. Look good in my prom dress. Find a boyfriend. Blahhh, blahh, blah. This time is different though. I have been working out because it makes me feel good.
Because my goal isn't 'skinny' anymore.
It's 'healthy'.
Every pound I lose is met with celebration, but also with a dose of reality. I have to remind myself to be constantly checking myself and my motives to losing the weight. I refuse to fall into the same state of mind I have so often been in before. The same that I have watched others be consumed by. That's no way to live.
So girls. If nothing else of this long and ranting post has stuck with you, please note this. Before you decide to lose weight, you need to accept yourself first. If you feel like you can't accept who you are if you hate what you see in the mirror, then you may be confused by who your 'self' is. She is living on the inside, ladies! You can bounce from a size 16 to a size 2 and you are still going to be the same person. Weight loss isn't going to fix that.
Alright, well this has gotten to be a lot longer than I anticipated. It's just been something that I have been thinking about a lot lately, and I feel like its a topic that can't be emphasized enough.
Have a glorious day :)
PS. I am going to the pool today. I am wearing a bikini. I only feel slightly terrified at this thought. :) This is progress people!!
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