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I hated my body. From an early age, it was instilled in me that being thin was important. By the time I was about twelve, it felt natural that the ultimate goal in life was to lose weight. Everything seemed to reinforce this idea – the media, celebrities, images, and habits that surrounded my everyday life – all of it screamed to me that my body wasn’t good enough.
So, I punished it. If my body wasn’t going to look the way I wanted it to look in my mind on its own, then it needed to be taught a lesson, I thought.
I starved myself. In my senior year of high school, my diet consisted of a Diet Coke for breakfast and low-fat yogurt and a box of raisins for lunch. My best friend and I would praise each other for consuming as few calories as possible. But by the time I was home from school, I was famished and would scarf down as much food as I could handle. Then, the guilt set in. To make up for all of the calories I consumed at night, I would starve myself again the next day, and the entire process would repeat. A never ending cycle of self-hatred and shame.
I weighed myself every day. If the number on the scale went up even a fraction of a pound, I would mentally berate myself. How could I be so careless? I wrote the number in my daily school planner each day as a reminder, starting in junior high. It worked. Every time I opened my planner to write down homework for a class, those three digits reminded me of all of my perceived shortcomings – I’m not small enough, I ate too much, I’m not pretty enough, I have a “roll” on my stomach where most of my friends do not, etc.
I burned all of the calories. When I got to college, I started going to the campus gym almost every day. I would spend hours on the elliptical or stair climber while reading textbooks and peer reviewed articles about psychology. I would torch close to a thousand calories with each session. By the end of my freshman year, the number on the scale finally started reflecting the number I had dreamed of for years. I still wasn’t happy. I still hated my body. And, that number eventually creeped back up. You can’t thrive while living in a constant state of negativity.
I could go on and on about the different ways I treated my body, and my self esteem, for days. I could provide thousands of examples of self abuse because it consumed my life for so many years. But, that isn’t the point of this post. That isn’t the good part.
In my early 20’s, I saw an advertisement for a magical at home fitness program. In only three months, the people on the screen had gone from flabby to fit. I couldn’t believe it! After all these years, THIS was the golden ticket that was going to blast off those last five pounds and put me back to my “goal” range. This was going to finally make me “skinny”!
I received the program as a Christmas gift that year. Over the next few months I started the DVD workouts a bunch of times. I usually fizzled out in the first week or two, would take a couple of weeks off, and then do the first week or two over again. If I didn’t see results (i.e. a smaller number on the scale) within a few days, I would quit on myself.
The program was tough. It was packed with a variety of push ups, pull ups, weight lifting, plyometrics, and yoga – all activities that were brand new to me at the time, and a far cry from the monotonous cardio I was used to. While the physicality of the program was difficult, it was my mindset that was keeping me from committing. After so many years of telling my body that it was failing me, my mindset automatically went to that low place.
On what was probably my tenth (or more!) attempt at the 90 days, I finally made it to week three. I started the week with the same Chest & Back workout that I had done at least 15 times altogether by then. This time felt different though. I had very rarely worked on my upper body strength before because I didn’t want to get “bulky” (I was so scared those 8lb weights would make me look like a bodybuilder! How silly!). I had been tracking my weights and reps, and up until that point, everything had stayed pretty close to the same. *Shockingly* (please note the sarcasm here) starting and stopping the program hadn’t shown me any progress in this area either, so I started to just assume strong arms, chest, and back weren’t something I’d ever have. BUT my body was starting to prove me wrong! In that third week I was finally able to do more pushups and (assisted) pull ups than the weeks before. Just a few more, but enough to catch my attention.
During the cool down, the trainer, Tony, says, “Every time you do this, it's going to get better… Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was your body.” On that particular day, although I had heard him say it fifteen times by this point, that message clicked. At a literal level I finally accepted and understood that building lasting results takes time. I can’t workout for four days and expect my body to transform significantly. It seems so obvious now.
At a deeper level – sort of between the lines – I heard, “Your body is so much stronger than you have ever given it credit for. It loves you unconditionally and it shows up for you even when you abuse it.” It was the missing puzzle piece. When it snapped into place the entire picture made sense. My body IS amazing. My body IS strong. My body is worth showing up for!
I sat down on the middle of my basement floor and wept. A weight was lifted from my heart. I had burned so much energy over the years by living in a toxic mindset. I didn’t realize how heavy it had become, how tired I was, until I set it down. It was never really about the number on the scale after all, although that is where I focused my attention. Subconsciously what my brain had been telling me is that if I could control that number, then I wouldn’t have to focus on the root of the issue. If I could control my pant size, I wouldn’t have to face the reality that I didn’t think I was good enough.
Just as I started to beat myself up over it taking me that long to see the light, Farrah climbed into my lap and began to kiss the tears away, encouraging me to forgive myself for the many years of suffering I put myself through – not only physically, but also mentally. Her gesture urged me not to fall into the trap of shame, but to lovingly release myself from my past and welcome in a new way of being.
I will tell you that while I had this major, life altering epiphany, that has not kept me from falling back into old patterns from time to time. No one is perfect, and those old ways are deeply rooted. I still catch myself reverting to the “healthy perfectionism” mindset often, but I can recognize it now. Whenever I get caught up in anxiety over not looking or feeling a certain way, I remind myself, “Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was your body.”
I expect so many people, unfortunately, have a similar history with body image issues. If that is something you have, or are currently, struggling with, please know that you are not alone. Please also know that your worth is not found in the size of your clothes, the number on the scale, that sleeve of Girl Scout cookies you ate, or the number of pushups you can or can’t do. You are worthy because you exist. It is that simple.
I had been living as though my body was a separate entity of me. I had been living as though it was some embarrassing burden I had to lug around with me day in and day out. But in that a-ha moment, and in the days & years to come, I’ve learned how deeply connected the body truly is to the mind and soul. With a mind full of toxic thoughts, my body and my soul took a beating daily. As those thoughts began to shift toward loving kindness, my body and soul finally began to thrive, which in turn generated even more positive thoughts. Like I said, you can’t thrive in negativity.
As it turns out, that program WAS pretty magical. Tony Horton changed my life with P90X and ever since that day my health journey has been fueled by love instead of hatred. Instead of focusing on what I can lose by way of my food choices and exercise, I turn my focus to what I can gain. I gain strength (physical & mental), lasting energy, flexibility, clarity, a sense of accomplishment, a strong foundation, mobility, anxiety relief, vitality, and SO much more. And the more I focus on all of that, the stronger my love of self grows. God gifted me this body with all it’s wonderful abilities and it is my duty and honor to nurture it like the miracle that it is.
Finally, I love my body. I love myself.