What does it mean to me to love your body?
For a long time I probably couldn't answer this question. My body and love did not go in the same sentence together. I believe it was third grade when I started to learn what it meant to be uncomfortable in my own skin. I remember wearing one of my sister's sweatshirts to school one day because I thought it was so cool and then felt uncomfortable all day because I wore leggings with it and no one else wore them. I remember my friend teaching me how to tell if you were big boned, small boned, or medium. I was petrified I was big boned. I can still picture the fearful thought created in my mind from a friend telling me that when two boys in our class hit each other it made noise because they were so chubby. This was when my body image got altered.
Why is it that we always concern ourselves with what people think of our outward appearance? I have no memories of ever being concerned with whether people thought I was too nice or not friendly enough or whatever you may.
Now here's where it gets even worse. If you know me you know I am a very accepting person. I think everyone is sweet, and nice and usually don't have a bad word to say about anyone. But when it comes to myself, we have a whole other thing happening. I am mean, critical, and sometimes downright ridiculous with expectations for myself.
So this year I pledge to do something different. This year I am going to relax and cut myself some slack. I am the world's biggest perfectionist. We're talking type A personality to a T. I tend to walk around a stress case and place all the blame on myself. For the longest time I've strove to be something I'm not. I have a bit of an obsession with being blond, and I'm far from it. I'm never going to be super skinny (and healthy at the same time). I may never be a beauty queen. But when all is said and done there are things I like about myself.
So this year I'm going to love me just as I am and here's what that means to me: