I was inspired to write this blog, amidst the Dad/Mom Bod phenomenon. When I turned 39, I decided it would be a fantastic idea to break into the fitness industry. There was pressure to eat clean, train lean and not be mean, while teaching fitness and testing the the “21-Day-Restriction-I-might-Faint-Diet.” It stimulated dysfunctional behavior that was triggered by an alcoholic and anorexic past. I’m not in obsessive mode right now, I have some work to do with regards to my relationship with food.
I am not going to rattle of obesity statistics and spew out health knowledge because it’s been done to death. I think that our culture has made food a flashy-fast by-product of our day, washed down with Skinny cocktails, OR became the complete center of our attention. I just dropped banana peanut butter on my key board, (peanut butter side down) because I ate my sandwich in 23.5 seconds, so I lean towards flashy-fast. Finding the middle ground with food, is like trying to find that happy place with the thermostat….when you are pre-peri-menopausal.
There are so many blogs, vlogs, experts, diet commercials, pills, foods, trends, kale recipes that are bombarded into the atmosphere, I’m beginning to wonder if the demon who plank-walk backwards in horror films, just finished an article from an “Eat Healthy or DIE” blog.
Every day, I talk to or see one person who is giving up a food group in the name of health. …I do not hang out to find the reason. It’s too much of a trigger for me to restrict food and dislike my my body or feel as though I should be giving up the same food group.
‘There is too much sugar in everything.’
“Simple carbohydrates are Eldiablo.
As a society, it then becomes acceptable eviscerate those who do not exercise with the message of , “Go Big or Go Home.” Moderation equals lazy. If we aren’t dripping sweat from every orifice of our body as we screen shot our rippling abs, it’s not worth effort, so lets just order a cake and eat the whole freaking thing.
The other day I went for a bike ride. On a non-mountain bike trail with my mountain bike that was built for Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. Thirty Three seconds into my ride, my phone rings. My daughter had a tinkle accident. I picked that bike up like “The Rock”, threw into my bad-ass Ford Pick up, fulfilled my mom duties, and went right back to the trail. Forty Five seconds later, the chain jammed and came off. This happened fifty three more times. I was ecstatic. I was covered in grease and sweat and glory. I did not care about time or cadence or wind speed or calories burnt or if my core was engaged or whether my inner thighs felt tightened. I had fun. Exercising.
This is a love letter to you. Let us love our extra skin, cellulite or whatever perceived flaw we have imposed upon our beautiful , amazing , womanly , bodies. We are women. We are designed to have MORE FAT ON OUR BODY THAN MEN. Period. That shit is genetic. I’m not trying to leave the dudes out, I know they struggle with body image as well, but I’m speaking from my own experience and hope.
What happened to us? According to this article http://money.usnews.com/money/personal-finance/articles/2013/01/02/the-heavy-price-of-losing-weight
Americans spend SIXTY BILLION DOLLARS on weight loss products. I’m not a mathematician, but I think we could do better things with this type of cash-money. Yes, some of those dollars are used towards positive lifestyle choices. Why so much money for magic dust, magic pills, starvation diets, or anything that perpetuates skewed mind-body-food and wellness connection.
The affects of the health and fitness industry are not all bad. There are sites that promote moderately infused health and balance, such as My Fitness Pal. When I treat my health journey moderately, I learned a lot of healthy habits and craved healthier foods. I stopped cycles of binging and purging and starving and over-exercising.
The diet demons are still there. The voices that tell me that flour and sugar will turn me into a raging cocaine addict. Somewhere, Somehow, Someone made a flawed comparison of cocaine to sugar and flour. Puppies and Meerkats stimulate the same “nerve receptors’ as cocaine and sugar, so no more cute and cuddly ? The voices that expel disparaging rhetoric in our brains propels polarizing extremes in a society that desperately needs balance. The voices that tell us that moderation is for the weak and carbohydrates are the spawn of all things that sag and dimple.
I ask you today, to write a love letter to your body. Simple. Balanced. Elegant. If you do feel overweight or need to lose weight for medical reasons, Trust me when I tell you, if you learn to love your body for what it’s able to do RIGHT NOW AT THIS VERY MINUTE, and you learn to love yourself for WHO YOU ARE AT THIS VERY MINUTE, the scale will become less of an issue. The jiggle and cellulite blogs will be out of your radar. You won’t gawk at abs. Okay maybe Magic Mike Dancing Abs. I’m not 100% there in 100% acceptance of my body. I still turn around and examine my cellulite. I still step on the scale and say “Shit”. I still compare myself to my friends that don’t eat sugar or bread.
But I love myself so much more than I ever did when I was skinnier, ripped and could hold a plank for two minutes.