I don't know if any of you knew this, but I'm getting older. The calendar tells me I'm now 31 years old and that is so absolutely bizarre to me because I could swear I'm still 14 - or maybe 17 - but, either way, 31 certainly doesn't feel as thirty-oney as I thought it would. I certainly don't feel grown up. I certainly don't see how it's legal for me to be responsible for two little humans. The older I get the more I realize: I have no idea what I'm doing. But what's beautiful about that is, no one else does either! We're all just kind of floating around this planet pretending to know what it's all about, but we don't. And we likely won't. Until maybe just a few years before death. Maybe. Or perhaps we just get to that point and realize, who cares?!
And so that brings us to recent realizations. Let me explain...
So.. I have fat on my body (surprise!)... More than I'd like. More than I probably need. But that's okay. And if I have this fat until the day I die, that's okay too. I am still beautiful. I am still strong. I am healthy according to all my doctors and all my blood work. I completed a Warrior Dash this past weekend and that course had so many awful, awful hills - and while I was not super fast, I was also not super slow. And you know what? I didn't even get sore - we are two days out and I feel totally normal. ...I mean, aside from the bruises. But my muscles? They are not sore. I am not terribly tired. I feel like I feel on any normal day. That's pretty awesome. And my body, my muscles, my heart, my lungs - fat or not - allowed me to do that and to get through it mostly unscathed. My body is a good body. It's certainly the only one I have and I've been thinking a lot lately that it's about damn time that I choose to love it no matter what it looks like. I'm choosing to eat good foods, to exercise, and to watch my caloric intake because I love THIS body and I want it to continue to be awesome and allow me to do fun things like obstacle races, playing tag with my kids, dancing with my friends. I want to live a long time and never spend one more moment of that long life worrying about my body fat or what other people think about the way I look. What a silly thing to waste my time on.
This is completely TMI, but it occurred to me recently that I have a loving husband who likes having sex with me (most of the time, when we aren't thoroughly exhausted from working full-time, taking care of two young children, and generally having to adult - or too busy re-watching all 7 seasons of Mad Men on Netflix - priorities, people.) So, why the hell should I ever care whether or not Joe Schmo out in public finds me sexually attractive? Or if that young women who looks totally awesome in her skimpy sundress looks at me and thinks I have a "Mombod"? Or *gasp* am DRESSED LIKE A "MOM"?! Whatever the hell THAT means...
This is not to say I will never feel insecure about myself again. Of course I will. I am not perfect. My confidence is not 100% intact. There will likely be plenty of times at the pool this summer that I'll think to myself, "Who the hell do I think I am wearing this bikini??" And as long as I can answer myself with a, "You're YOU and you have just as much of a right to a tan belly as Jessica Biel does, dammit!" then we're doing okay in those moments of insecurity.
The fact of the matter is, sometimes I eat Oreos before noon because sometimes a girl just needs a couple Oreos. Eating Oreos before noon does not make me a bad person. Eating Oreos before noon is not equal to being Hitler. Eating Oreos is just... eating Oreos. At noon or any other time of day.
This weekend is Memorial Day weekend - I will drink the beer, I will eat the bratwurst, and I will wear the bikini. And this week? I will go to the gym and Lift the Heavy Things, I will go play tennis with my dad, I will go run a few miles in this hot muggy weather -- and I will do those things NOT so that I am "allowed" to drink the beer, eat the bratwurst, and wear the bikini -- but because I enjoy them and they make my mind AND my body feel good. Just as the beer, brats, and bikini [tan belly] make me feel good.
I am (slowly) giving up feeling scared all the time, worrying about judgement from others, judging other people, and generally wasting vital energy on things that are anything other than pursuing my own special version of happiness. It's time to size up.
