Which is of course a loaded statement.
Because, to be honest, I’ve only once in my life been fit and super happy with my body.
This is the curse of woman. Not menstruation. Not broken fingernails. Not a guilty pleasure of watching the Real Housewives of Atlanta after seeing their catfight on Ellen. No. It’s poor self image.
During my youth, I was always small for my age. My weight was usually 10x the grade I was in starting from 4th grade until highschool (40 lbs at 4th grade, 50 lbs at 5th grade, etc) and I entered college as a literal 98 lb freshman.
Which is to say I was small and thin but also miserable with my body. I had no curves. I was obsessed with my lack of breasts.
And looking back at old pictures of myself I wonder how come I never took better advantage of my attractive features like my neck, my lips, my really good skin, and long straight legs. Did I really obsess about fat knees and that’s why I didn’t wear skirts or dresses? Why didn’t I properly learn how to pluck my eyebrows in my teens. Why haven’t I *still* learned how to do them properly.
And I generally lacked the patience and commitment to work out regularly. The only time I can say I was excited about how fit and trim and strong I felt was in my rage mid 20s. Post breakup, pissed off and going to Tae Kwon Do three times a week. I had to quit Tae Kwon Do after a guy that I was dating from the studio decided that punching a hole in my wall was a good way to convince me not to break up with him .
Pre-Pregnancy I wasn’t particularly fit but reasonably happy with how I could still fit into some sexy pleather boots and booty jeans. During pregnancy, I enjoyed the excuse for minimal physical activity. And now with my baby, just 4 months out, I am wondering when I can start feelign good about my body again.
At least I’m no longer worried about lack of boobs. Cuz they’re here and they’re working. Of course the baby claims them as righteously heres and cares less about their aesthetics than their production.
But the waistline, the thighs rubbing up against each other, the thick arms. Generally feeling doughy.
I *really* hate it.
Hubbycakes reminds me I’m being too hard on myself. As it took me 9 months to get into this body, I can take my time getting back out of it.
But still. It irritates me. Like a small pebble in your shoe that you can’t find.
So what am I going to do about it?
Well. For a start, I’m going to start walking more.
Amelia is surprisingly cooperative about sitting in the sling as I walk on the treadmill in our complex for 20 minutes or more. I’ve gone and done this 5 times now with today’s walk tapping out at 40 minutes before she started fussing for some attention.
I realize this isn’t much, but it’s a start. And considering I haven’t exercised in earnest for a while, this is a step for me.
I hope to keep it up. And maybe I’ll get to be just a little bit happier with my body in a few weeks.