I am struggling with body image issues again. This demon pops up from time to time; usually when I have had a period of time without exercise (and, as a result, my weight drifts to a place I don't want it to go). Logically, I know that my body image issues stem from my mother's hatred of her own body. While I consider myself lucky as I have never developed an eating disorder, I have struggled with self love all my life.
Against societal standards, my happiest times were when I was a teenager. This was a time before thigh gaps and commonplace breast implants but I was in a good place and actually did not despise my body.
Fast forward twenty years and two children later and I am not at all happy with my body. I am scarred. My boobs look like deflated balloons. And, while I work hard to try to keep fit and healthy, I cannot seem to reach my goals.
I have no self control. None. Plus, I have such a penchant for all things sweet. This leads to me having a really hard time eating clean. I have tried making a pledge with myself to ensure that I stick to my diet but I love dessert. I love it, love it, love it!
I have recently been analysing the way I feel about myself in order to resolve the root problem and figure the best way to work through my issues. Confidence was absent from my life for a long time. However, propped by a few trusted individuals over the last few years, I have slowly built myself up to a point where I am mostly happy with the person I am. I have accepted myself for who I am and worked tirelessly to address the parts of me I wasn't a fan of.
The biggest issue I have with my body are my breasts. I have toyed with the idea of a breast implants and researched heavily to determine the size, type, style and insertion mechanism but I cannot justify the financial expense (an $18,000 commitment every ten years is a lot of money for vanity). I also wonder whether I would just find another thing about my body to obssess about if I did get a boob job.
So, instead, I continue to work hard at the gym. Each day I try again to keep clear of the crap - sticking to fresh fruits and vegetables and a little protein. I feel like I have given up so much of the things that I love (bananas, chocolate milk, chocolate, dessert, hot chocolate - okay, dairy and bananas) in order to achieve an ideal that I have marked in my head as being attractive.
My greatest problem is that I honestly do not think that anyone could find me attractive the way that I am right now. So I chase this crazy notion in my mind that, if I achieve peak physical form, I will be happy. Logically I know that happiness comes from within. It is not a size of clothing. It is not a number on a set of scales. It is not a certain muscle mass. Happiness is attainable at any weight, any size or any fitness level. Happiness is not a constant state. Happiness is a conscious thought. A choice.
So, I reconsider. I ponder as I pound away on the treadmill at the gym before sunrise on a freezing autumn morning. I think and I reassess. And I remind myself that sexiness, like happiness, is a frame of mind. Beyonce is sexy. She is curvaceous - not the sought after size zero of fashion mags - yet she is alluring. She is confident and has a killer smile. That's what is sexy in a woman. Not some waif of a thing that hides away in the corner. Someone that shines, regardless of their physical appearance. A woman who takes care of her body; dresses well and tops it off with a smile - that's what sexy looks like.
No comments:
Post a Comment