Simply Someday

It's Anything But Simple, But It's My Life

  So, I’m doing this thing. If you read my last post you know how sad and frustrated I am with my body. I HATE what I’ve let myself become. I hate how I feel, how I look, how unhealthy I am. I’m 40 and feel 60, my body hurts to move, I would think of nothing of not eating veggies for days, or drinking water – just diet coke and coffee. I chose not to apply for my dream job because I am too scared of what others will think of me…did I seriously just write that? Well shit. That there is as honest as it gets.

Well the time has come to change me. My mindset, my eating, my activity levels, everything. It all has to change, and I’ve begun the process of revamping myself.

More to come…

 

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Dear Body,

Dear Body,

Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t hate you. I mean you’d never know it with the way I’ve treated you for the last 40 years. I’m a horrible owner.

The thing is though, I hate what you’ve become. It’s like you’re this garbage can, you continue to hold in all the shit I put into you. The shit food, the shit drinks, the cigarette smoke for 25 years off and on. The chemicals, the additives, preservatives, and red dyes…I put things into you that I can’t pronounce, spell or say.

I hate that you are hard to move. I hate that some mornings I feel so much older than 40. I hate that I can’t run. I hate that I am embarrassed of you, that I try to hide you under layers and baggy clothes. I hate that I am afraid of exercising outside of my house because of what other people might say. I hate having to shop for fat girl clothes in specialized shops. I hate pretending to be fat positive, and body positive, when inside I’m cringing at what I’ve let myself do to you.

I hate that when I look into a mirror, I don’t recognize the person staring back at me. I’m not her. I would never let myself get this way – except I did, and it is me staring back.

I hate being naked, I hate showing you to the one I love. Showing myself to him feels like I’m revealing my worst secrets, I can’t hide what I’ve let you become.

I hate that my beautiful daughter has a mum who looks like me. I remember how I felt when my own mum was overweight. I remember the looks, I remember the snickers. Now I’m that mum. She shouldn’t ever have to hear or see what I did.

I’m so sorry dear body. I’m so sorry I’ve done this to you. I’m sorry I’m afraid to change. I’m sorry I’m not brave enough to go to the gym yet. I’m sorry I’ve fed you horribly. It’s so much easier to eat your feelings rather than deal with them head on. I’m so sorry it’s taken me 40 years to decide to change. I’m sorry I can’t run, I can’t jump yet.

I’m sorry I don’t know how much power you have, I’m sorry I’ve never pushed you hard or long enough to know what my limits are, or how far away they are. I plan on finding out though.

I plan on finding out dear body. I am going to push you, I am going to make you angry at me, I am going to punish myself for punishing you. I want you to feel strong. I want you to feel fit, I want you to feel whole.

I plan on making you work. I want to sweat, I want to feel muscles I’ve long forgot about. I want my face to be red, legs to feel like Jello, and I want to fight to breathe. I want to kick my ass.

Again dear body, I apologize, but I’m changing. I promise.

 

C.

 

 

 

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