You all know that I’ve been through a bit of a roller coaster physically, mentally, and emotionally. I went from thinking I was fat when I was sleek, to overindulging and not noticing when I became grossly overweight, to working hard and finding that healthy middle ground. While completely satisfied with my current weight and appearance, I have still been laboring to become trim and slim, with very little effect. I look great, but my efforts to bump off that last ten to forty pounds has not been successful.
You know what? I am so over it.
I am tired of trying to change my body. I am tired of feeling like I’m just not quite there, or that my accomplishments aren’t good enough.
I am done trying to be smaller.
I am not done with exercising regularly, maintaining a healthy BMI, and eating well, but I am done with that hideous business of always having a smaller goal. So what if I am a size 12? So what if I stay a size 12 forever?
My whole life (excluding, of course, those troll-like middle school years) I have had people tell me I was beautiful. Men, women, children, they all said the nicest things. The sad part? I never, ever believed them.
My friends know that I have an addiction to my reflection. When I pass by a mirror, a window, a recently-shined countertop, I cannot help but to examine myself. To see my body positioning, my facial expressions (after all I have to know how I look onstage!), and to critique. For years all I saw were flaws. Now? All I see is beauty.
I obviously have those moments of regret and self doubt, where I wish my neck were longer or belly flatter or rib cage less wide but I recognize these moments as what they are, weakness, and I can see past them to who I really am. I am not saying that if more weight loss came as a result of respectable exercise I would flip out, but I am saying that that is no longer my goal.
I am here today to tell you that I finally believe. I finally feel, even on my frumpiest days, somewhat beautiful and confident and powerful and sexy and intelligent and like the force to be reckoned with that I am.
I declare, for now and evermore, an end to this frightening and exhausting business of a “skinny campaign”. I choose happiness.
I will not deny some chocolate or a lazy day or midnight breakfast sausage, because I have reached a place where these silly but happy-making choices are tempered with smart healthy-making choices. Instead of being ruled by a culture of “no, no, no” I will now embrace a lifestyle of “yes, yes, yes”.
Yes to freedom, yes to running and lifting weights and jazzercising and dance and leafy greens like kale and spinach and less meat and more core workouts because they make me happy not because they make me different.
Goodbye, unhappy and “never good enough” Emilie.
Hello, ecstatic, sexy, goddess-like, roman statue stunning, free-willed and strong-willed, intelligent, wise beyond her years, self-sufficient, healthy, and sustainable Emilie.
Today is the day I declare war on my previous campaign and instead embrace a lifestyle of respecting and loving the body that I have and the person that I am.