It’s okay to hate your body. It’s not okay to love your body.
Or is it?
http://fitnesscheerleader.com A Twitter friend is encouraging women to talk about why they love their bodies during the month of February, a month dedicated to Valentines, flowers, chocolate, hetero love. I’m feeling squeamish about this.
Janice suggests we start with the words “I love myself because….” ugh! Now I’m feeling squeamish AND guilty. The good girl in me says, “Good girls don’t blow their own horns!” (During my workplace leadership academyhttp://gettingmyessayspublished.wordpress.com/2011/01/20/leading-with-positivity/ I learned there’s a book called, “Brag: How To Toot Your Own Horn Without Blowing It.” Sounds good!)
Another good girl, deeper down, says, “Oh go on! You want to model self love for your daughters and son. Besides, you do love yourself!”
I’m no expert, yet I know I’m not alone. It’s hard for me, and likely a lot of my friends, to take a compliment, accept our unique bodies, and discover that deep down we do love our bodies.
So here goes! Diving in! (Once you leap off the side of the pool, you can’t leap mid-air back to the edge!)
I love myself because I take good care of my body. I go for check ups regularly. I am healthy. (I had that little skin cancer thing last month, but got it fixed.)
I work out regularly. (I can practically run a 5K without stopping.) I ride my bike to work. I eat vegetables every night (almost) and fruits every morning (almost). I don’t drink too much (except on book club nights). I don’t smoke. I have a decent figure. I like my crow’s feet and my laugh lines ’cause they show I’ve lived and laughed and squinted.
I have pretty eyes, a laugh that my kids make fun of, a great smile. I have a certain creative thrift store style of dressing that I like. (See above. And yes, my daughters did submit me for the TV show, “What Not To Wear.”)
I have a lot of energy and enthusiasm. I can keep up with almost anyone on the dance floor. I will go so far as to say I can out-dance anyone, except a professional.
Best of all — My body made awesome babies! And my body nursed them each for practically a year! Yay me! I’m awesome.
Boy, that felt good. And now, I’m going to go hide. I’m going to find a hooded sweatshirt and zip up. I’m going to bury my face inside my turtleneck sweater (thrift-store style).
Because that feeling is emerging again: good girls just don’t blog about how gorgeous they are. Or do they — Self love or self loathe? Let’s talk about it.