Kickboxing, But Not Beating Myself Up.
This week has been hectic. Most of it has been spent in New York, as my family got together to bury and celebrate the life of my late grandmother. That being said, getting the chance to regroup and write this from my own bed has been wonderful. But now that I'm home, it's back to the reality of eating right and hitting the gym. After I finish writing here, it will be a breakfast of eggs and then off to that lime green and purple sweat shop by my house.
But before I go, I want to talk a little more about why I'm doing this; the spirit of the process so to speak. And to do that, I will start by telling you a couple of stories.
Once Upon a Time, when I had managed to lose all that weight before, I walked into a church on a Sunday morning. I was standing around, as church goers do, and sipping my water, watching the hustle and bustle of people getting ready for the service. It was then that I was suddenly surrounded by that beloved and ever waiting group of people: The Church Ladies. If you don't know who these ladies are, they are everyone's grandmother; they are older, cheery, have great baked goods that you hunt down at every church pot luck, and probably do some kind of sewing projects in their down time. And also, they love you. These ladies love you and support all that you do. And we love the Church Ladies in return.
Anyway, I found myself surrounded by their fluttering kindness, and I began to hear a chorus of "Ohh you look so wonderful!", "It really shows!", "I hardly recognized you!". And then, at last, that fated question, "How did you do it?". So, I told them that it was counting calories and working out; I finished explaining my routine and, to my horror, was met with something I did not expect. These women, after hearing my honesty, began to open up to me about how they saw their own bodies. They told me how fat and disgusting they found themselves, and how they had been on fad diet after fad diet to no avail. Overwhelmingly, they spoke about their bodies with a spirit of shame and outright hatred. A song which I knew well and had sung myself on occasion. But not anymore, thank God, as I will explain.
End of Story One.
Story two. I have a very dear friend, who shall remain anonymous for the sake of her privacy. This girl, and I hope you will know who you are, is one of the most vibrant, joyful, and compassionate people I have ever met, and being around her is much like taking a honey nut cheerio shot: it's sweet and warm, and it gives you a little buzz.
She and I would talk about any number of things, one subject being our desire to work out. What blew me away was the shame that my friend held for her body. She was in a billion times better shape than I was and still looked in her mirror and cringed. And what was more, she explained while we hit the treadmill one evening, her living situation at the time was toxic; the girls she lived with encouraged this mindset in each other, essentially guilting each other into working out, using the gym as a punishment for not being "Perfect". She lived in a den of salad eating wolves!
I could devote this entire blog to telling stories like these two. And each one breaks my heart on a fundamental level. I have to ask you, what on earth are we doing as a society that's molding the minds of women to think this way? Women in their 60's hating their bodies because they don't look like models? Or girls who do look like models hating their bodies because...they're told they should? Is that what women are supposed to do now?
I myself have been told again and again that I should hate myself because of the number on my scale. "No man will ever love you looking like... that; and if he did he'd have to be retarded or black." THAT IS AN ACTUAL SENTENCE THAT HAS BEEN SAID TO ME! More than once, or a dozen different variations of it. "You're fat, what makes you think you deserve a f***ing Disney movie for a life?" All of these sentences are attacks, but they are not aimed where I first imagined them to be. I believe that, as much as these people are attacking me for my weight, they are attacking me for my self worth.
How dare I, being what I am (Human? Woman? Bookworm? Hot Dog Cart Enthusiast?), choose to love myself! Society as a whole seems to be threatened by people who love themselves, so apparently we're crating an environment that eliminates self worth to ensure that people remember their proper place? I guess? People who hate themselves are much less of a threat.
So...why am I doing this? There is a reason I called this blog a love story; because it is. I love myself. I am in a non-narcissistic, all enveloping, steamily sensual, epically romantic love affair with myself. Each workout, and each healthy eating choice, is an act of love, done by me, to remind that sexy girl of mine (Me), that she is loved and worth taking care of. I won't go to the gym unless it's done as an act of love. I won't starve myself to lose weight, because baby girl needs to eat. This blog is to chronicle a love story between me and my body. I still have not mastered this spirit! It has taken me years to even scratch the surface of what it means to love myself. So don't worry, it will take you time too. But it is a lesson so worth learning.
I want to encourage anyone reading this post to really try to embrace what I'm saying. Maybe for some, your body isn't as tied to your emotions as mine is, and that's fine. I'm glad it's not that complicated for you haha!
But for the people reading this who are me...please know the following: efforts of self improvement done out of self loathing will produce no lasting change, and will just drag you and the women, young and old, who look up to you further into the dark.
I'm not perfect and I've got things about my life that I need to put effort into. But I will stand and rot in place before I take a step for change with a negative heart. This blog is to remind me of the
banner that I'm flying, and hopefully to inspire other people (men too) to pick it up next to me. So all in all, please remember to love yourself because you're worth it. Don't ever let anyone tell you different.
Now, I'm off to the gym and then to Publix to get my ingredients for homemade guacamole. Thanks for reading and happy eating.
But before I go, I want to talk a little more about why I'm doing this; the spirit of the process so to speak. And to do that, I will start by telling you a couple of stories.
Once Upon a Time, when I had managed to lose all that weight before, I walked into a church on a Sunday morning. I was standing around, as church goers do, and sipping my water, watching the hustle and bustle of people getting ready for the service. It was then that I was suddenly surrounded by that beloved and ever waiting group of people: The Church Ladies. If you don't know who these ladies are, they are everyone's grandmother; they are older, cheery, have great baked goods that you hunt down at every church pot luck, and probably do some kind of sewing projects in their down time. And also, they love you. These ladies love you and support all that you do. And we love the Church Ladies in return.Anyway, I found myself surrounded by their fluttering kindness, and I began to hear a chorus of "Ohh you look so wonderful!", "It really shows!", "I hardly recognized you!". And then, at last, that fated question, "How did you do it?". So, I told them that it was counting calories and working out; I finished explaining my routine and, to my horror, was met with something I did not expect. These women, after hearing my honesty, began to open up to me about how they saw their own bodies. They told me how fat and disgusting they found themselves, and how they had been on fad diet after fad diet to no avail. Overwhelmingly, they spoke about their bodies with a spirit of shame and outright hatred. A song which I knew well and had sung myself on occasion. But not anymore, thank God, as I will explain.
End of Story One.
Story two. I have a very dear friend, who shall remain anonymous for the sake of her privacy. This girl, and I hope you will know who you are, is one of the most vibrant, joyful, and compassionate people I have ever met, and being around her is much like taking a honey nut cheerio shot: it's sweet and warm, and it gives you a little buzz.
She and I would talk about any number of things, one subject being our desire to work out. What blew me away was the shame that my friend held for her body. She was in a billion times better shape than I was and still looked in her mirror and cringed. And what was more, she explained while we hit the treadmill one evening, her living situation at the time was toxic; the girls she lived with encouraged this mindset in each other, essentially guilting each other into working out, using the gym as a punishment for not being "Perfect". She lived in a den of salad eating wolves!
 |
| Journal Entry 11/10/14, 1 of 2 |
I myself have been told again and again that I should hate myself because of the number on my scale. "No man will ever love you looking like... that; and if he did he'd have to be retarded or black." THAT IS AN ACTUAL SENTENCE THAT HAS BEEN SAID TO ME! More than once, or a dozen different variations of it. "You're fat, what makes you think you deserve a f***ing Disney movie for a life?" All of these sentences are attacks, but they are not aimed where I first imagined them to be. I believe that, as much as these people are attacking me for my weight, they are attacking me for my self worth.
How dare I, being what I am (Human? Woman? Bookworm? Hot Dog Cart Enthusiast?), choose to love myself! Society as a whole seems to be threatened by people who love themselves, so apparently we're crating an environment that eliminates self worth to ensure that people remember their proper place? I guess? People who hate themselves are much less of a threat.
 |
| Journal Entry 11/10/14, 2 of 2 |
So...why am I doing this? There is a reason I called this blog a love story; because it is. I love myself. I am in a non-narcissistic, all enveloping, steamily sensual, epically romantic love affair with myself. Each workout, and each healthy eating choice, is an act of love, done by me, to remind that sexy girl of mine (Me), that she is loved and worth taking care of. I won't go to the gym unless it's done as an act of love. I won't starve myself to lose weight, because baby girl needs to eat. This blog is to chronicle a love story between me and my body. I still have not mastered this spirit! It has taken me years to even scratch the surface of what it means to love myself. So don't worry, it will take you time too. But it is a lesson so worth learning.
I want to encourage anyone reading this post to really try to embrace what I'm saying. Maybe for some, your body isn't as tied to your emotions as mine is, and that's fine. I'm glad it's not that complicated for you haha!
But for the people reading this who are me...please know the following: efforts of self improvement done out of self loathing will produce no lasting change, and will just drag you and the women, young and old, who look up to you further into the dark.
I'm not perfect and I've got things about my life that I need to put effort into. But I will stand and rot in place before I take a step for change with a negative heart. This blog is to remind me of the
banner that I'm flying, and hopefully to inspire other people (men too) to pick it up next to me. So all in all, please remember to love yourself because you're worth it. Don't ever let anyone tell you different.
Now, I'm off to the gym and then to Publix to get my ingredients for homemade guacamole. Thanks for reading and happy eating.
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