One way to love your *body (even when it’s tough.
Some of you have found a way.
This is for those whose body-love wavers occasionally. Especially in the summer when the shorts come out.
I have a strategy for self-love because I find it difficult at times to be nice to myself. I am annoyed when I don’t exercise enough. I am irritated if I get tired before I’m done for the day. I hate how much I want to get married to softened ice creams with chunks of chocolate. When I get angry, I talk crap about my body–my best friend who I literally can’t get through even a single minute without.
There are good reasons for my impatience. I’ve listened to and absorbed many o’ commercial that points out that I am ageing, am not thin enough, and need whiter teeth and bigger muscles. I try not to listen but the messages seep into my subconsciousness.
We are set up to hate, control, and generally disrespect THE thing that makes our lives doable. THE ONLY THING that allows us to do all the things we love. To be with the people we love.
We have to learn to love our bodies so we care for them, not control them.
But how? How can I embrace the mole on my face that grows hair, the chub at the top of my swimsuit bottoms, my knees? My relaxed memory. My brain chemistry.
How can I quiet the voices of unkindness in my past that insisted that I was not perfect in a world where flawlessness matters?
Maybe you’re thinking that because you have chronic pain, UBS, or another difficulty that this whole blog is silly, but I would say this.
Some kids are easier to love, but they still deserve love.
Here’s the strategy.
See that photo up there? That’s Peanut. You might remember a psychic told me he wanted to be a bee for Halloween.
I don’t just love that dog, I’m IN LOVE with that dog. If a man looked at me like that dog is looking at you right now, I’d throw away the ice cream and get married again. Here’s the thing about Peanut.
If I say to my dog, “Peanut, let’s go for a walk.” Peanut responds like he just won the lottery. If I say, “Peanut, let’s go pick up poop in the backyard,” he is like, “Yeah, baby. Poop!” If I asked Peanut to fly, he would give it the old college try.
Peanut is game.
You know what else is like that?
My body is game. She’s had two babies under difficult circumstances. Get’s up every day and faces my crushing to-do list. She doesn’t fuss when we eat nothing but goat cheese and crackers for dinner and if I want to do something hard, my body is here for it. We’ve gone through a lot, my body and I.
She has limits though. Just like Peanut. The difference is that when those limits show themselves, I can be pretty mean to my body. I think harsh things, hurl insults and highlight my faults.
I never do that to Peanut. I never say, “Your belly is fat, what’s your problem Peanut?” Nor do I ever say, “I know you’re tired, get up and work on your core!” I’ve never forced him to do Kegel exercises at stop lights and not even once have I called him an idiot for losing car keys.
I recognized that Peanut is trying his best but he has limits.
Just like my body. And, my gosh, she is working hard to please me within those limits.
Being human is having limits.
Somehow understanding this, helped me understand that I can love something limited, flawed, and beautiful in its own way.
Like a child, a cat, a husband. *Not necessarily in that order.
Now, think of the thing you love and replace it with you.