That statement needed a little breathing room because.... 10. day. cleanse. Y'all. The struggle has been completely real. I have been so cranky and bothered because delicious food is my love language. I kept trying to sit down and write but couldn't even form complete sentences. Most of my posts are powered by Starbucks and Cinnamon Toast Crunch and apparently without them, I am useless.
This week has been a blur of obnoxious meal planning and vegetable washing and exercising will power (that I don't have) mixed with all the regular dinner prep and homework and kid shuttling of a normal week. It is not all bad and I'm not really "hungry", but I do miss the sweets and carbs I love so much. I'm trying to be a big girl and push through because I know that as I get older I need to work towards a healthier lifestyle. One that includes more leafy greens and less donuts. So I will press on.
I was at the gym the other day and saw a few of my younger, more fit friends. They were working out like beasts. (and barely breaking a sweat. I walk for 5 min on the treadmill and my shirt is soaked and I have the blotchy red face. Life is unfair.) One friend had run several miles that morning and was back for more weight lifting and whatever else you know when you are awesomely athletic.
I stood there (sweating) and thinking... "When does it end?" and a wave of sadness and defeat came over me. I had dreamed of the day when I would be in shape and could just maintain and not beat myself up on a regular basis. I thought skinny people got a break and could just relax and eat the Poptarts again. Y'all. I will be honest. This sent me down a depression spiral that almost landed me in a pint of Ben and Jerry's. (I will have you know that I resisted that urge and had a "delicious" protein shake instead. *insert eye roll emoji*).
I have since come to terms with the fact that achieving "skinny" is not the goal. I need to stop waiting for the day when I can eat whatever I want and not worry about what it does to my body. That day is has passed. It was called childhood.
That truth became oh so evident this weekend at the Germantown Festival. We have lived in Germantown for 6 years, but this was our first time to make it to the festival. It was fun and hot and there was every kind of delicious fair themed food you could imagine. The smell made my cleansing heart ache. Steve and I remained strong and drooled as we watched our children devour their hot dogs, hamburgers, and italian ice. It was hard and I may have taken a teeny tiny bite of that burger when Steve wasn't looking.
|Festival rides get 2 thumbs up from these guys. Amelia and I stayed in the shade and shopped the booths.|
Sadly we left empty handed because I don't do well with too many choices or shopping while I sweat.
Ugh. Again with the sweat.
I am on this constant journey to be content with my body. Lots of days I struggle with self doubt and comparison. But then I have days when I am confident in my identity and the promise that...
"I have been remarkably and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful, and I know this very well."
I am a work in progress. I am almost 40 and I have to continue to remind myself of this every day. I pray my children can learn this truth sooner than later. I look at my beautiful girls who, I can already tell, will have very different body types. I pray often that they will not compare themselves to each other. I pray that they will be confident in this truth so they will not fall into the trap of comparing their outward appearance with friends and images they see in media. As a mom, it is easy to tell them what really matters is the shape of their heart. I can see this in them, but I have trouble telling it to myself.
I read this blog post recently titled "Your Body is not your Masterpiece". It was so wonderfully convicting and something that I will make sure to go back and read many times when I am obsessing too much about the diet or the exercise or the super tight pants.
Glennon Melton writes "Stop spending all day obsessing, cursing, perfecting your body like it's all you've got to offer the world. Your body is not your art, it's your paintbrush. Whether your paintbrush is a tall paintbrush or a thin paintbrush or a stocky paintbrush or a scratched up paintbrush is completely irrelevant. What is relevant is the YOU HAVE A PAINTBRUSH which can be sued to transfer your insides onto the canvas of your life – where others can see it and be inspired and comforted by it."
Lord, have mercy. I love a metaphor. And an artistic metaphor just makes me clap my hands with joy.
So let me reign this post in before it exceeds some online word limit. I will continue to eat clean and healthy and try to cook clean and healthy because I would like to feel good and stay healthy so I can do whatever it is I'm supposed to do. And in two days when this cleanse is behind me, I am going to eat a celebratory cupcake because that it is who I am.
I must remember that no matter what Facebook and Instagram and tv and magazines and all the other voices say, my goal can not be to perfect this body. Because my body is not my offering. "Your life's work is the love you give and receive – and your body is the instrument..."
Can I get a Amen? Because that, my friends, is quite a relief.
FACEBOOK FROM THE PAST
The public restrooms that I have visited the last couple of days have made me lose my faith in humanity.