There was a point in my life when the trajectory of my day was dictated on how flat my stomach was when I got out of bed. I’d sidle up to the full length mirror in my room, lift up my shirt, and BAM. The kind of day I would have was decided.
A flat stomach meant a good day. A bloated, protruding stomach meant a day of restriction and extra cardio for whatever “missteps” I’d made the day before.
It was an exhausting way to live, but I was desperate to achieve a perfect, skinny body. I was chasing acceptance from others and I felt validated by the guy at the bar eyeing me up and buying me a drink and the women at the office complimenting my small size.
People liked small, skinny girls, and that’s what I was determined to be.
I spent those years wanting desperately to fit in and to be liked, and not surprisingly they were some of the unhappiest years of my life. I’m grateful that they are behind me.
What I struggled for so many years to realize was this undeniable truth: I have more to offer the world than a skinny body.
Today, I understand that I’m strong AF, and the muscles I’ve built mean I can do some damn amazing things (I’m talking to you, superman push ups and heavy squats).
I understand that having the “self-control” to eat under 1200 calories a day actually makes me a pretty miserable person.
I understand that less food and more exercise is not going to result in getting the body I want.
The ironic thing is that when I started eating more and spending less time at the gym, I finally got the physical body I was so desperate for for so many years. It is also ironic that I no longer cared.
I don’t care how flat my stomach is in the morning. I care that I can eat breakfast with feeling guilty.
I don’t care how many calories I burn at the gym, I care about how much stronger I’m getting.
I don’t care if the women at my office think I’m small and skinny. I care that I’m not starving at work all day.
And finally- I don’t care if the guy at the bar thinks I’m skinny. Buy me a burger or get lost.