No fancy intros today, friends — we’re cutting straight to the chase.
I’ve put on a few extra pounds this past winter. I’m not sure how many, since I don’t weigh myself, but my clothes are definitely feeling a little bit more snug and parts of me wiggle that never used to wiggle before. Some of it is probably muscle (thank you, snowboarding), but some of it probably isn’t. And with summer and bikini season in full swing, you might be wondering what I’m planning on doing about this conundrum that I suddenly find myself in.
My answer? Not much. I’m not going on any strict diets; not taking up any elaborate fitness routines; not doing any crazy cleanses. Not doing much aside from maybe going shopping and investing in a few pairs of bigger jeans so that I no longer have to perform complicated dancing/shimmying/cursing rituals whenever I want to put on the ones that I currently own #yogapantsforlife.
Is that crazy? I feel like it might be. We live in a society that’s obsessed with achieving the “perfect body.” It’s been a while since I’ve glanced at the fitness magazines while standing in line at the grocery store, but I’m willing to bet that most of them are [still] trying to sell us the secrets on how we can achieve a bikini body or lose 5 pounds in 5 days. It’s basically insanity not to want to change your body in some way, shape, or form… Or is it?
If Mr. Einstein can be trusted, insanity is “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results,” and by that definition, my current choice is actually one of the few sane decisions I’ve made in life (kidding… sort of).
See, I’ve been there… I’ve done that. I had the bikini body, the 6-pack abs, the super lean figure. And to be perfectly honest… it didn’t make me happy. I thought it would, which is why I pursued it so doggedly at different stages of my life, but I never found the happiness and satisfaction I was looking for. If anything, I only became more and more miserable. I never loved (or even really liked) my body. At best, I simply didn’t hate it. Or, most of it, anyways — I always seemed to find something to criticize and obsess over.
And that right there is why I won’t be actively trying to get get the oh-so-coveted bikini body this summer — I just can’t justify devoting so much time and effort to something that never actually made me happy to begin with… especially when there’s nothing really wrong with the body I currently have. I mean, sure… I have days where I b*tch and moan about my jeans fitting differently than they did the day before, or the fact that I have extra dimples on the wrong set of cheeks… but those days pass, and for the most part I feel pretty darn good — the best I’ve felt in years, actually. That’s not to say that I felt bad before, but this is a whole new level of good.
Recovering from an eating disorder is a funny thing… You constantly think you’re 100% better because you honestly feel tonnes better than you did before… never really realizing that “better than before” doesn’t necessarily mean “as good as you should.” Oftentimes it’s been so long since you felt “as good as you should,” that you honestly don’t remember what that’s supposed to feel like, making you think that any shift closer to that direction is finally it… especially when everything looks perfect on paper. Does that make sense? Allow me to explain.
I was at a healthy BMI; my body functioned the way it was supposed to (ladies, you know what I’m talking about); my blood tests always came back perfect; I got high-fives from my doctor after every check up; I didn’t obsess over or restrict food… but I guess there was still room for improvement. I guess my body wanted a little more oomph… which I guess makes sense considering I was hovering around a similar weight to what I was before I got sick, and I’m no longer a wee little lass in my early 20’s (sorry… I recently watched Brave). Time has passed. My body has changed.
I don’t know… I’m still trying to work out the logistics of it (not really). All I know is that I feel pretty darn great (with, let’s be honest, the occasional crappy day thrown in the mix too), and if that means carrying around a few extra vanity pounds and more dimples on the wrong set of cheeks, then I can deal with that… Weight and pant size are too flimsy a thing to tie your happiness up into. It’s taken me years to finally internalize that, but there it is… extra pounds or not. I’m not the same weight that I was at this time last year, and I probably won’t be the same weight at this time next year — does that mean I should be any more or less happy? I don’t think so. There are other things going on in life that require my attention.
I eat the way I eat because it makes me feel good and I exercise the way I exercise for the same reason. I don’t get too caught up in the details because I honestly don’t have to; and that’s not to say that my way is right or wrong — it’s simply what works for me. So there you have it… Why I won’t be working for a bikini body this summer in approximately 1000 words and no pictures. Thank ya for listening to my rambles
No questions today — I’d just love to hear your thoughts and personal experiences.