Weight, body image, and motivational Monday.

I'll be honest- I've debated and prayed a LOT about this post, and it's the first non-teaching related one I've done in awhile. 

If you know me well or have followed this little blog for awhile, you know that I value vulnerability and honesty. I often think there were be fewer problems in this world if we all took down the masks we wear in front of others and on social media and were a little more honest with ourselves and each other. Please bear with me as I go through this. 

It's no secret that in the last 3 years I've gained a lot of weight. I used to be a dancer- dancing up to 15 hours per week between regular classes and long rehearsals on the weekends. I was in great shape, although at the time I thought I resembled a hippo. I look back on those pictures and think, "Oh my! I was SO tiny. I wonder what that 18 year old would say looking at herself 5 years later." I maintained that body for freshman year- probably because none of my friends had cars and we walked everywhere, worked out together, and ate (relatively) well. Plus, it helps that I didn't drink my freshman year so I didn't gain that particular set of the freshman 15. It started sophomore year and my first year as an RA/my first real job other than nannying. I used this excuse of a new life experience and being so much busier than I'd ever been with a job and a full class load. 

Then junior year came along, along with a gut-wrenching break up and food became a comfort. I ate my feelings, rather than dealing with them. 

Senior year brought the most stressful time of my college career. First semester I had classes from 8-4:45 on Mondays and Wednesdays and then my practicum experience which was over an hour away. I was also still an RA at the time. If working out and eating well ever fell by the wayside, it certainly did last year when I gained over 20 pounds. I look at it now, and I just have made excuse after excuse.

Now this first year of teaching and trying to figure out a budget and cooking and loan payments and what the heck am I doing as an adult? Luckily, I really only gained about 6 pounds this year, but I have yo-yo'd all year long. The real clincher came in March when I stepped on the scale and my weight started with a 2, rather than a 1. I'm actually sitting here in tears admitting that. Now, I could give a plethora of excuses- I have to be on birth control due to a possibility of Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome, I'm on an anti-anxiety medication- both things that contribute to weight gain. I've just survived my first year of teaching. I live in an area where our main source of hanging out and "doing things" on the weekends consists of going out to eat. Excuse. Excuse. Excuse. 

Let's be honest- I feel ashamed. Low. Fat. I think about how I used to prance around in a leotard and tights and be self-conscious about the fact that there was a little "pudge" where my tights met my skin, and my skin crawls. That poor 18 year old went through times of debating not eating, constantly comparing herself to others, etc. I don't have a very high amount of self confidence. I am very fortunate that I grew up in a home where I was told I was beautiful and my mother and grandmother always provided fresh fruits and vegetables (and made me eat them). One of my best friends is battling an eating disorder and she inspires me daily. My struggle with food is not nearly like hers is, but it leads me to a realization- we all fight a stupid battle with food.

Now, I could blame society and the fact that a double cheeseburger meal from McDonald's costs less than $5, but a salad costs at least $7. A bag of chips costs less than and feeds more than a bag of spinach. There are so many preservatives in our food that we can't pronounce what we eat. I'm a tall girl, so an "average" woman who is 5'6'' and weighs 135 lbs is not going to be me. I will weigh more. I will never be my high school weight because the minute I stopped dancing I got curves. But it's bigger than that. It starts with me and how I feel about myself.

Having a friend with an eating disorder has really opened my eyes to the fact that a number on the scale truly does not matter (obviously there are exceptions to that with two extremes). I had a doctor's appointment recently where I had blood work done. My doctor explained that you can be an overweight person and still be healthy- not everyone is going to be a size 4 or 6 (and I probably won't ever be those sizes again). My blood pressure is fine, my blood work is great, etc. But am I? No.

I am not OK with how I look right now and my pants size or scale number. But, more importantly, when I look in the mirror, I'm not happy with what is staring back at me. Yes, I get told I'm beautiful by people, but I want to look at the girl in the mirror and see that she's beautiful and not be ashamed to say so. 

Let's look at the reality. I'm in my early 20s. I should be in the best shape of my life. Yes, I have the responsibilities of bills and such, but I do not have a husband to take up time or children demanding or needing my time. I have time now to feel beautiful and be healthy. 

I've joined weight watchers and had a break through with my running today. (And, shockingly, I actually enjoy running these days). Here's another reality. It's hard. It requires discipline and determination, two things I don't want to have in my "summer mode" where I want to eat whatever I want and have a cocktail or two. 

I want to take this summer to transform not just my body and lifestyle, but the way I think about myself and look at myself. I have nieces and nephews who soak up everything I say and do. I'm the cool, young aunt (that's right, I said it) and I have these 7 kiddos who often mimic what I say and do. I also have students who look at what I say and do. I want to set the example that I can love who I am, and that includes my personality and body. 

I don't really know why I'm sharing this, but I feel God telling me I need to. At the end of the day, if the One who breathed life into my lungs and put me on this earth can see my beauty and worth, why can't I? This isn't truly my body, it's His- I only have it for my lifetime and then it will go away. 

Well, here's to my first motivational Monday. I hope to post each Monday with some motivation and (hopefully) break throughs.