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I wish that I could explain the strange state of distress I’m in. It’s not around anything of real importance but maybe you’re in this same plane of limbo that I’m in. The ‘I just had a baby, oh and it’s the holidays’ fun factory. Talk about a mind f*$K!
Body image is fickle thing. A ‘good body’ is subjective and has a lot of different meanings to a lot of different people but somehow we’ve been convinced that there is a gold standard. We eat the kale, run the miles, portion out every morsel of food we enter in our bodies, and at the end of the day many of use are still not happy. Why is this?
After Theo was born I promised myself that I’d cut myself some slack. That I wouldn’t obsess over how fast or how slowly I was losing the baby weight and that I wouldn’t revert to the actions of my past. Well folks, don’t make promises you can’t keep. I can’t deny the fact that I have been mildly obsessed with my food intake or constantly complain about my thighs. Its a struggle I constantly battle with myself. But my body is nourishing another human being! That’s pretty cool. Why do I forget that?!
This post is more of a reminder to myself, and my readers, that in life it doesn’t really matter how good you look in those jeans. Why must we put such an emphasis on how big, or little, our butts are? I’d like to think that I’m not alone in this sentiment; that I’m judged on more than what I look like, what I wear or the label on my jeans. I can’t promise you that my thoughts won’t drift and become obsessive but I can actively try to accept my body as it is and work on body-positive thinking. And I urge you to do the same!
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