Tonight I am getting dressed for dinner. It's the 8th anniversary of the day The Prince and I got married. And I know it sounds like a bore, but I can't find anything to wear.
I have always had a body image problem. Always. Even when I weighed practically nothing. And I don't anymore. And so I sit here and see the pear shape at the back, and the arms soft, and my stomach not allowing my skirt to sit on my hips where I want it to sit. And I just don't feel like me.
And that's not the worst part.
The worst part is I am raising a daughter. A beautiful, proportioned daughter who hears her mother get angrier and angrier because she can't find anything to wear. Now, I'm not stupid enough to use the word 'fat' around her. But it doesn't matter. She's bright enough to see what's going on with me. That I hate my body. Because it doesn't look the way I want it to. No. Because it doesn't feel the way I want it to.
I miss my toned arms. I miss my stomach -- the one that could hold V shapes in pilates for minutes on end. I miss my shoulders. I miss my back -- nuanced with tiny muscles. I miss feeling strong. I miss feeling like me.
So this may sound like the opposite of what I should do, but I am tonight getting back on the scale and going on a diet. Not a diet, diet. A diet in the way I used to be before I found it very easy to complain I did not have the time to anymore. This is a diet where I exercise (yes, in my own home does count Mr. Prince). This is a diet where I don't eat the left-overs from the Rabbit's plate. Where I know that coffee is not a sustainable liquid.
I suppose it would be easier for me to just accept the way I am and teach her to be happy with herself. But I am not comfortable in this body. I just don't feel like me. And I feel what I should teach her is that however you are, if you are comfortable with yourself, that's fine. And how anyone else is, if they are comfortable, that's fine too.
But I don't want the Rabbit to inherit my poor image of myself. And I think the way that starts is by making it okay to make myself me again.
I have always had a body image problem. Always. Even when I weighed practically nothing. And I don't anymore. And so I sit here and see the pear shape at the back, and the arms soft, and my stomach not allowing my skirt to sit on my hips where I want it to sit. And I just don't feel like me.
And that's not the worst part.
The worst part is I am raising a daughter. A beautiful, proportioned daughter who hears her mother get angrier and angrier because she can't find anything to wear. Now, I'm not stupid enough to use the word 'fat' around her. But it doesn't matter. She's bright enough to see what's going on with me. That I hate my body. Because it doesn't look the way I want it to. No. Because it doesn't feel the way I want it to.
I miss my toned arms. I miss my stomach -- the one that could hold V shapes in pilates for minutes on end. I miss my shoulders. I miss my back -- nuanced with tiny muscles. I miss feeling strong. I miss feeling like me.
So this may sound like the opposite of what I should do, but I am tonight getting back on the scale and going on a diet. Not a diet, diet. A diet in the way I used to be before I found it very easy to complain I did not have the time to anymore. This is a diet where I exercise (yes, in my own home does count Mr. Prince). This is a diet where I don't eat the left-overs from the Rabbit's plate. Where I know that coffee is not a sustainable liquid.
I suppose it would be easier for me to just accept the way I am and teach her to be happy with herself. But I am not comfortable in this body. I just don't feel like me. And I feel what I should teach her is that however you are, if you are comfortable with yourself, that's fine. And how anyone else is, if they are comfortable, that's fine too.
But I don't want the Rabbit to inherit my poor image of myself. And I think the way that starts is by making it okay to make myself me again.
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