To be quite honest, I should probably be studying right now. But this is something I have to get off my chest and so I’m sitting here in my mother’s cubicle at work typing this.
Body positive. Body image. Self love. Three phrases that are so crucial, so essential, to live a life that is, in my opinion, truly fulfilling and satisfying. But sadly, so many people struggle with this. Not just the average teenage girl as you would expect, but people of all ages, genders, and races.
Human beings are such lovely people and are so incredibly lucky and blessed. We have crafty hands equipped with five nimble fingers on each. We have disposable thumbs to help us complete tasks that would otherwise be unreachable. We have strong, beautiful legs that bring us anywhere we want in this world. We have a stomach that digests the delicious, nutritious food that our body thrives on. We have arms that push us out of our comfortable bed every morning, arms that help during our daily tasks. Humans are extraordinary beings with amazing abilities. So why do we get so hung up on outer appearances? More specifically, why do we get so critical with what we see in the mirror when it doesn’t actually matter at all.
So what if you don’t have that strangely coveted inner thigh gap? So what if your legs aren’t perfectly toned and tanned like those “fitspo” girls you see everywhere on the internet? So what if you don’t have a flat stomach? A perfect set of abs? Nicely toned arms? What do those even mean; what do they even represent? Certainly not your self worth. Most certainly not your gorgeous personality or capabilities as a person. Why do we get so obsessed with how we look and the desire to achieve it?
I ask myself these questions every day. I ask myself that question now as I’m typing this. Why is it that when I look down at my legs I feel dissatisfaction? Why am I so hard on myself about my body? When I’m recovering and my body is changing and healing, why am I panicking about how my clothes pre-recovery are beginning to feel tighter? Looking back on it, I realize it was a bad idea buying small clothes during my worst time because it’s just like asking for a trigger while recovering. Sometimes I’m so lost on what to do, on how to love myself. Sometimes I have days where I feel wonderful and loving towards my body.
Recovery is a process. Recovery is a never-ending journey filled with ups and downs that we just have to push through every day. There will be incredibly hard days. There will be slightly easier days. And hopefully, eventually, the number of easier days will start to multiple and grow. Hopefully, one day the hard days where we’re unnecessarily tough on our bodies will become less and less until they’re a faint spot in the back of our memories – until those days only come out once in a blue moon.
This is already so long so I’m going to end it here. I have so much to say on this topic so I think I’ll split it up into several posts. I know that this is a “recipe” blog, but this is also kind of a personal journey kind of thing, so I hope no one will mind these occasional posts too much.