Almost 19 months after my second son was born, and here we are: me, hating my body, me, feeling no self worth, and it’s time for this to stop.
I owe it to myself, first and foremost, to stop with the self-hatred. I owe it to my husband, who tells me daily that I’m beautiful, even more beautiful than when we first met, to stop saying, no, no I’m not, I’m ugly. I owe it to my kids, who deserve to be raised in a family where body shaming is banned, especially by their mother about herself.
I’m buying myself a fitness tracker for Mother’s Day – whether it’s the Apple watch, or something cheaper – and I’m choosing me. I’m going to buy myself comfortable walking shoes and find athletic socks without holes somewhere in my drawer. I’m going to download the C25K app and I’m going to learn how to run and not let my heavy boobs be an excuse any more.
Last week, when I made this decision to love me, I took a walk after the baby went to sleep. It was still light out and my walk took me down a path where I could see Mt. St. Helens from a vantage point I didn’t know existed so close to my house.
I will never be skinny, but that’s not my goal. My goal is to be healthy and happy in the body I’ve been given. Let the self-hatred be blown to smithereens.