I am currently in a body that I loathe. Not slightly uncomfortable with, not “I don’t like how I look in this particular dress”…Just loathe, pure, plain Israelites vs Egyptians loathing. I hate it. And if I had a way of crumpling said body in my fist and throwing it in the nearest bin- I would do it. Only there’s no way of getting rid of it without getting rid of me-we’re stuck.
Now before you jump on the “Body Positive”, “Love the body you’re in” train…calm yourself down and take several seats. Is everyone seated? Yes. Good. Now we can move on. I didn’t say I hate my body, I said I hate the body I am in right now. Before Agnes can go on a tangent about how God made me this way…God didn’t make me this way! This isn’t God’s fault.
God made me darn cute and I say this very confidently. He gave me giant eyes and pinchable cheeks, which means I will look 15 until I am 70 then from there I will look like a black Betty White which is pretty cool because Betty White is super cute. Cute-that’s what God gave me. Not this state I am currently in.
This is a state I lazed and ate myself into. For as long as I can remember there has always been a direct relationship between my stress levels and the amount of food I consume. The more stressed am I, the more I eat and the more I eat, the rounder I get and the rounder I get, the more stressed out I get and the more stressed out I get…you get it, it’s a vicious cycle.
I also have an affinity to food. I love food. The only time my dad ever spanked me was over icecream and the only other time he almost spanked me was over cake and the last time my mother spanked me (in the year 2001), it was over tomatoes-literally. My relationship with food is unnatural. You love your spouses? I love food. I’m devoted to it.
So I’m here now, 2 chins, four bellies, which is two more than the standard two that I usually keep-two is very normal for me (remember I said cute, not hot, not attractive-cute) and I really want this to change. I could go to the gym but we all know how that ends. So I’m going on an intermittent fast and every morning when I get up, I do ten minutes of activity. Don’t you judge me, ten is a big number, there’s an infinite number of numbers between 0 and 1, can you imagine how infinite the infinity between 0 and 10 is? …some infinities are simply bigger than others. Thank you Fault in our stars.
Is my fasting and my ten minutes enough? Probably not. But it’s a start. I’m not saying don’t eat for 16 hours like I am doing…I am saying it’s okay to hate how you look, its even cooler not to hate it, but if you do…it’s understandable. And its okay to want to do something about it, the human body is very easy to alter after all-that’s how you get to two chins and four bellies.
If anyone needs to hear this…let’s do this together. Let’s get active for ten minutes daily-eventually it will be more than ten, let’s watch what we eat-cake bad and carrot good. It’s not about the goal of getting to a certain weight, or looking a certain way because goals have a timeline and what happens after that timeline? It’s about the habit (I read this in an article earlier today). The habit of taking care of yourself and getting yourself to the place that makes you happy.