A few weeks ago I had a routine doctor’s appointment. Before stepping on the scale, I made sure to take off my coat, put my purse down, and then remove my shoes – a routine I’ve got down pat. When I finally got on the scale, I saw a number larger than I’ve ever seen before. But, then the strangest thing happened. I didn’t obsess over it. I didn’t mentally shame myself. I didn’t cry. I didn’t repeat the number over and over all day. (All things I’ve completely done in the past.) I simply shrugged and moved about my day.
Of course, going into the appointment, I had some inclination that my weight was going to be higher than normal. I could blame it on being 9 months postpartum. I could say this is just my “mom bod” now, even though I loathe that phrase. Honestly, this is my just body – no excuses, apologies, or disclaimers necessary. I’m not in the best shape of my life by any means, but I really don’t care.
I may not love my body right now. But I also don’t hate it.
I’m learning to be in a place where, for the first time ever, I respect it. And maybe that’s a little ironic because as I write this, I am the heaviest I’ve ever been, excluding pregnancy.
I’m learning that eating garbage makes me feel like garbage. But sometimes I do it anyway.
I’m learning that my body likes to move. But I don’t always prioritize exercise.
I’m learning that I enjoy indulging in a good meal, and I don’t need to make myself feel guilty about it afterward.
I’m learning that no fad diet or trend is going to solve my body image issues, so I’m not going to calorie count or track macros or try intermittent fasting or any other craze.
I’m learning that literally not one single person in my life cares how much I weigh right now. And they won’t care if I lose or gain 10 pounds.
I’m learning that hating your body is exhausting, and I simply don’t have the energy for it anymore.
I’m learning that my self-image has been completely distorted for nearly 20 years. But it’s not too late to change it.
I’m learning that if I want my kids to love and accept themselves, then I need to love and accept myself first.
I can’t exactly pinpoint what caused this shift. Maybe I’ve finally grown the heck up, maybe I’ve realized there’s so much more to life, or maybe I’ve just been too busy with the hustle of work/kids/life to really care. Whatever it is, I’m grateful for it.
My journey to body acceptance has been a L-O-N-G road full of detours, turnarounds, and complete stops. It may have taken me 34 years to get here, but for the first time in two decades, I can honestly make this declaration: I am breaking up with my body image issues for good.
And friends, few things I’ve said (or written) have ever felt better.
 have ever felt better.){kind=link}