It is so easy to be unhappy with our bodies. There will always be that unflattering photo or comment from an innocent little one that can send us into a place where we feel poorly about ourselves. We then spend unnecessary time in front of the mirror, distorting ourselves into how we believe we should look, or letting it all hang out with a look of disgust. It has taken me years - probably over a decade - to be where I am today: comfortable in my own skin. I owe a great deal of this to weight gain from lifting.
Growing up, I always thought thin was best. I felt fortunate to have inherited a small runner's body and was not shy about sharing my 00 size with others, but despite my flat belly and tiny waist, I was never really comfortable with my body. My awkward thin legs and bony knees prevented me from wearing skirts and shorts for years, and like most teenage girls, I wanted bigger boobs. When I thought a little weight gain would benefit my body, I struggled with it. Naturally, any weight I was able to gain didn't go right to my calves and boobs like I had hoped, but rather right to my stomach which didn't help my feelings about my body whatsoever. I then struggled with eating disorders in hopes to lose the weight, but then was still left unhappy with my gangly body and now my struggle with food. Even with my poor body image, I thought I was doing okay through all the "skinny compliments" I would receive, the most common being that people would kill for my thighs since they don't touch. Uh, what? I would love more shapely legs and here people were complimenting me on mine for the gap between.
Having children made me truly appreciate my body for the first time, because growing a human is pretty fucking incredible in my opinion. I was amazed at the transformation my body went through, and even more so at how quickly it went back to normal after Lyla was born (thank you breastfeeding!) After Hannah, however, was not so easy. A combination of being stretched to the limit for a second time, and having a build up of scar tissue from previous abdominal surgery has left me with a permanent little pooch in my lower belly. It's something I've always been self conscious about, more-so in clothes than in bathing or birthday suits, because clothes tend to cling there and can look like I am expecting again. Instead of being proud of the body I have, I punished it by over exercising and limiting food, which ultimately lead to binge eating and even more unhealthy behavior.
At the gym, I did the same boring routine for years using the same skimpy 10lb dumbbells. It wasn't until one day when I decided to really push it with the 15 pounders - and could do it - that I decided to see exactly what my body could do. I turned to my CrossFit loving husband for help, and despite wanting to give up at times, I got through the new lifts he taught me and watched my body get stronger as the weight was added.
The first time I really noticed a difference (other than being constantly incredibly sore) was during a run last summer. I put on my usual shorts and tank top getup and headed out the door for some miles. A few minutes into my run, my inner thighs started burning. "What the HELL is that?" I literally said out loud. It was my thighs! And they were touching! What most women want to rid of I was absolutely ecstatic about. Days later when I ran with the group I proudly flaunted my chafe marks that I had never had the "honor" of experiencing beforehand. My legs may still be twig-like but they are now healthy twigs - that touch!
This small bodily victory inspired many more. I continued to add weight in the gym, and push my limits on the road as well. I embraced the small changes my body has seen from these increases, and accepted those that didn't change - like my stomach. In part, I always believed that with less food and more exercise, I would regain my once entirely flat belly. The truth is, I love food, and I am not willing to starve myself for something as shallow as an image. The other truth is that through these athletic breakthroughs, I have learned that no amount of diet or exercise will change this stomach pooch, and finally, I am okay with that. This body carried two healthy, beautiful babies, and has suffered the loss of another. I am proud to say that I love my body and all that it has done for me. Now it's my job to thank it by being good to myself - after all, your body is the only place you have to live, touching thighs and all.
