“God, I wish I had her _______.”
Insert whatever body part you like because we’ve all said it…either to ourselves or to our girlfriends. But earlier this month, as I was flipping through some old photos on my computer, I found myself saying that in reference to ME!
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This was my LEFT (I’m right-handed) bicep circa 2012. Granted, that is a really nice filter, thank you, Mr. Instagram, but can you believe that back then, I never thought I had ANY muscle? What the hell was I thinking?!
I’m pretty confident that I was in the best shape of my life in 2012, but that’s also about the time I got mentally fucked up in regards to health and nutrition. All I saw was the end goal…which was ALWAYS changing due to my “grass is always greener” outlook…but was basically, “Get skinny, be happy!”
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Only, once I dropped twenty pounds and was back into my size 4’s (never mind the fact that I purchased those jeans during my divorce when I was basically surviving off a diet of coffee and saltine crackers), the happiness was fleeting. Soon the excitement was traded in for anxiety as I attempted maintenance. Well let me tell you something, when you drop weight that you never should’ve lost, it’s really fucking hard to keep that shit off.
After a few months, I realized I just couldn’t do it. That’s when I finally decided to give up calorie counting and found Intuitive Eating. Unfortunately, my timing was horrible since it coincided with the time of my knee surgery. I wasn’t able to do the same things I could in the past…workout or otherwise. Also, it was winter and I was alone a LOT. I tried my best to keep a positive outlook, but as I felt my clothes getting tighter, I got more and more depressed. Or perhaps it was the other way around?
After a year of ups and downs, I made a decision to really focus on myself. I took a step back from blogging and deleted social media accounts that were harboring my need for comparison. I finally got back in the gym with a fresh outlook and it helped a LOT. Even though I figured I’d put on about ten pounds in the past year or so, I started to appreciate my curves and even allowed myself to be a little narcissistic at times. Image may be NSFW.
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Not long after discovering my love for yoga, I was seeing my body (and knee) move in ways I didn’t think possible. As corny as it may sound I think this is when I started loving myself from the inside out. Sure there were days where I felt uncomfortable in my skin (which we ARE allowed to have – nobody’s perfect!) but for the most part, I was feeling good ALIVE! Image may be NSFW.
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This summer things started to change. I found myself distracted with people, places, and concerts and just didn’t have time for the gym or the yoga studio. I tried to make up for it with the occasional walk, but I knew I needed more since I’d also let my diet take a nosedive. As the cold weather rolled in, the motivation rolled out. It took a few months, but by winter, I knew I’d probably put on ANOTHER ten pounds.
I started feeling fat and frumpy and once I saw those old pictures, I started feeling hopeless and wishing I had what I used to have…especially after I put on a pair of not-size-four jeans and couldn’t get them zipped. That’s when I knew something had to give.
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So for the last THREE weeks, I’ve been hitting the gym regularly, I’ve been eating stuff and drinking a shit-ton of water and peeing like crazy…umm, I mean yeah, well that too, but I’ve also been feeling FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!
Yesterday, after getting home from running some errands and feeling cute, I took NEW pictures. And then…you know what I did THEN?! I pulled up those old photos, I uploaded them into PicMonkey, I made myself a little side-by-side comparison and…then I said, “holy fucking shit!”
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Fuck you size fours, baby got BACK!
So morale of this extremely long-winded story? No matter what you or anyone else looks like, in the end, it all comes down to how you feel about YOU. Oh and it’s OKAY to check in with yourself every so often to hold yourself accountable…you’re allowed to want to be healthy even if everyone around you is stuffing their faces with pizza and cookies. Everything in moderation, including moderation and all that jazz. Also, get off your lazy ass and move a little because you know, endorphins don’t suck! Image may be NSFW.
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And even though I find Meghan Trainor’s song to be annoyingly overplayed and desperately in need of some actual base, she DOES have a point…
♫ “Boys they like a little more booty to hold at night”♫
“Dat booty booty, dat booty booty”