This morning I had a breakthrough. If you’ve read my blog before, you know I’ve had my ups and downs with weight issues and pretty much constant downs with self-esteem. Well even though I was sick for part of this week, had french fries and beer for dinner Wednesday night, didn’t use my walking desk yesterday (total fail) and ate candy cane Hershey’s kisses last night, a random thought entered my head this morning:
I love my body.
Yeah, I said it. And I’m fighting that self-deprecating twinge of guilt that comes with publicly announcing you like yourself and therefore appearing pretentious or vain. Stupid latent Catholicism.
My body isn’t perfect. But my clothes fit nicely. My thighs are thisclose to not touching when I walk (ask my mom how much that has driven me crazy my entire life). And I just FEEL GOOD. I know I’m putting good things into my body 99% of the time and I’m consistently active.
Only took 32 years to get here. That’s not too bad, right?