Soft
How many hours of my life have I spent hating my body? How many hours have you spent? How many hours have I spent wondering what I can do to change my body? To look better? Thin? Toned? Smaller?
If we added up the hours, it would result in days, months, maybe even years at this point.
What a fucking waste of time and energy.
I headed into this summer up several pounds. At the start of summer, I joked that my summer body was a bit fluffy right now and it’s fine. Really. It’s fine. (This last one said in Ross Geller’s high-pitched voice.) My mobility was hampered after foot surgery in March and it’s taken a while to get back to my usual activity level. My muscle tone was impacted and my weight crept up. Logically, I understand what happened. Emotionally, I’ve had some rough days.
I’ve cried to my husband, “I’ve let myself go!” I’ve berated myself, “Why don’t you have more self control? Just eat less.” I’ve looked in the mirror and felt bad for hours if not days after.
What a fucking waste of time and energy.
This is certainly not what I want to model for my girls. I work hard to not let them see this side of me. I was a teenager during the 90s, when an emaciated Kate Moss was the beauty standard, and I understand the impact those images have on a young mind. I was desperate for a new way to think about my body.
Enter body positivity.
In theory, I liked the body positivity movement that grew in the 2010s. In practice, I hated it. I always failed at body positivity. I ended up having a body I didn’t like and the shame of not liking it.
One thing that always struck me as flawed with the body positivity movement is that it implied there was something wrong that we needed to be positive about. It required me to think about my body (ugh), take in my flaws (double ugh), and then put a positive spin on it.
“I love my soft tummy because it’s a reminder of two healthy pregnancies and two beautiful children.”
“I love my big thighs because they are strong and help me hike for miles.”
Just writing out the above two sentences makes me feel uncomfortable. It’s simply not an authentic representation of how I feel.
Thankfully, body neutrality has gained more traction and is a concept that resonates far more with me. It might with you too.
Repeat after me:
The size of my body is neither good nor bad and it certainly isn’t tied to my value. It just is. How I look on any given day is the least interesting thing about me.
“My tummy is soft.”
Shrug
“My thighs are big.”
Okay. I think I’ll go for a walk.
Summer body just means the body you show up with. Wear the swimsuit. Put on the shorts. Move your body in ways that feel good. Nourish your body with your favorite Farmer’s Market finds (like this year’s crop of cherries).
Last week, I went for my first post-surgery hike while in Chelan, WA. I wasn’t worried about how my body looked because I felt great. I was outside. I was mostly pain-free. I was happy. The only time I felt a tiny bit embarrassed was when I came down a hill loudly singing “I Can Do It with a Broken Heart” and watched one deer run the other direction while another deer stood there curiously staring at me. I’m choosing to believe that they were wowed by my talent.
If you want to learn more about body neutrality, I suggest checking out Anne Poirier and Jessi Kneeland. I’m really enjoying Kneeland’s book Body Neutral.