Day Two - Small Confessions

I have two secrets to tell today:

First: I hate my body - but it’s not really my body’s fault. It’s all in my head. And maybe a little in my tummy. I don’t want to be skinny - I think that’s a bad example to set to be honest and I don’t even have girls. I love my curves - when they are not hidden beneath this layer of padding anyway. I have real hips, real breasts, and never had to worry about filling out a top (usually quite the opposite actually). I love them. Sure I wish they were a little firmer, a little perkier maybe, but I wouldn’t trade my curves for anything.

The only real problem I have is this belly. I haven’t been pregnant for better than five years. I can’t get pregnant again. But I look like I could very well be preggers again. I hate to look at it, to know it’s there. Hubster doesn’t seem to mind (or if he does, he’s smart enough not to say anything). The problem is mine and it’s a problem that can easily slip out of control quickly. I see this tummy and I curse it and I hate it and then, guess what happens? I feel awful and eat something I shouldn’t. In that way, the cycle continues indefinitely. And it bites. And it makes me feel guilty for having eaten whatever I ate or ashamed that I can’t just fix it.

The second secret is this - any yes it’s quite contradictory - I love my body. Maybe not the size of it or the look of it, but how can I truly hate anything that held, nurtured, and grew two beautiful little boys? How can I curse anything that produced the milk to feed them, the arms to hold them, the legs with which to carry them? I don’t care about the miles of stretchmarks or the scar that marks the place where both my children came into the world. In fact, I’m kind of proud of that scar. It saved my life and my son’s life. It seemed the best option the second time around too, especially considering my youngest son was even bigger than his brother. So yes, I have a love/hate relationship with my body. Or at least my tummy. But, that’s kind of why we’re here, isn’t it? To make it less a love/hate and more a love/dislike.

I can honestly say I may never be comfortable with my figure. I’ve never been comfortable with it. I can live with that. Mostly. Plus, I may yet surprise myself and find, when all is said and done that I might be able to say simply - I love my body. I’d like very much to be able to do that.

As far as everything else today - I stayed under my caloric goal - I have NO idea how and managed to get in my kettlebell along with my housework and keeping the kids happy. Technically, I still owe five minutes on the bell but I plan to do that as soon as I've wrapped up this and after that, shower time and bed time. The hubster is still more motivated than me - running again. Not me, I couldn't run if you paid me. Well - onward to tomorrow.