I got on the scale this morning, day two of the 21 Day Fix Extreme. I grimaced. I groaned. I pinched the offending skin. I berated myself, thought mean things of myself in my head. I thought back to the number I used to see way back when – that younger me people hate, the girl who used to be able to eat pretty much anything and stay the same weight. But then as I hauled this carcass, thankfully, up the hill, I remembered even that number didn’t seem to make me happy, and I started thinking about all the things this body has been through and endured. It should be honored, treated well, not looked upon with disgust. Because honestly, while that number I see isn’t awesome, isn’t what it used to be, it isn’t bad. I do all right for a 40-odd year old mother of three.
This body has served me well. I’ve abused it at times. Who hasn’t? But it’s gotten me this far.
This body has carried and delivered three beautiful babies. It endured three laparoscopies, fertility treatments, a miscarriage, and sixteen days of hospital bedrest to get there, but I look at my three miracles and am grateful. This body has suffered through a knee scope, rotator cuff surgery, and a hysterectomy. I’m still running. This body has walked the streets in ten countries. It’s hiked Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, Palm Springs, Mammoth, Sedona, Grand Tetons, Zion, Haleakala, and Phoenix, and walked through Boston, D.C, Houston, Kansas City, Orlando, New Orleans, Chicago, St. Louis, Lahaina, and Kona. It’s snorkeled the waters in Hawaii, Belize, Barbados, and St. Thomas.
This body has sung at five weddings and four funerals. It’s sat next to an isolette and crib in the NICU for 93 days. This body has spent thousands of hours at soccer practices, soccer games, baseball practices, baseball games, golf lessons, basketball games, piano lessons, dance classes, dance recitals, dance competitions, and therapy sessions. It’s pushed strollers through zoos, wild animal parks, SeaWorlds, children’s museums, and parks. This body has walked in eleven March for Babies to celebrate the life of our million-dollar-miracle.
This body has run in six half marathons, one 15K, and one 5K. It’s run almost 2000 training miles. It’s walked even more. It’s spent years in the gym, suffering through classes, the torture of a personal trainer, machines, and treadmills, and been entertained by gym-singers, gym rats, and treadmill dancers.
This body isn’t bad for a 45 year old mother of three. It deserves to be praised, not berated. It’s been through a lot, and almost never failed me. Will I still be working on it? Of course, because I don’t want to “look good for a 45 year old mother of three,” I want to just look good, for myself, not for anyone else. Today, I’m saying, “Thank you body. Sorry I’ve been so mean to you most of my life. I’m still figuring this all out.” As far as I’m concerned, I’m only halfway through this game. I’m hoping now I’m going forward with a little more wisdom, and a lot more kindness towards myself.