Originally posted 2010-02-24 06:46:00.
I was pretty ill at the beginning of May and I finally hauled my ailing ass to the doctor’s office during week two of the Martian Death Flu. They weighed me, like they always do. I was a good seven pounds heavier than I expected and I wasn’t thrilled about it. I mean, I didn’t get that sad-sick feeling that used to seep into my consciousness like a poison gas when I finally, grudgingly acknowledged weight gain. But I was surprised and dismayed and disappointed.
I stopped weighing myself ages ago when I realized that doing so regularly was just filling me top to tail with self-doubt and anxiety. I could LOOK fantastic in the mirror and feel confident about my body, but the minute I stepped on the scale and faced the numbers, it was all over. And after years and years and YEARS of this, I realized that since weighing myself wasn’t making me healthier – wasn’t a motivator to eat fewer French Fries or bike to work more often – then I just didn’t need to do it. And I stopped. And I have felt much more confident and strong and beautiful since I made that change.
Originally posted 2009-05-19 06:09:00.
Talking about bodies, and self-image, and how we feel about how we look is EXTREMELY important. Learning to love ourselves is a lot harder when we just let those insidious internal monologues run rampant. So we bounce our ideas and emotions off of trusted friends and admired mentors, and we gain strength and wisdom through their caring input. We do this instinctively, and our instincts serve us well.
Yet sometimes these body image discussions can backfire.
It can be very hard to hear someone that you feel is prettier or thinner or sexier than yourself complain about her body. You have to grin and bear it while she laments her physical woes, all the while mentally comparing your own lot to hers.
Originally posted 2009-09-28 05:49:00.