Goodbye, Inspiration Jeans
I’ve spent most of my life trying to be a smaller size. Thankfully, it never really got out of hand- aside from a few absurd crash diets in my high school and college years. But shrinking was always on my mind. I didn’t run to release endorphins. I didn’t spin to gain muscle. I didn’t eat greens or fruits or vegetables for nutrients. Being skinnier was always the goal.
Even when I look back on much slighter versions of myself, I remember feeling in those moments that I still wanted to be smaller.
To be clear: I didn’t grow up in a household with scales; my mother never made comments about our bodies; food was plentiful and enjoyed- both healthy and glutinous. Instead, this was a frustrating, self-inflicted prison that I created for myself; that I lived in- constantly striving to be something I wasn’t. Squeezing my body into inspiration dresses and skinny jeans; waiting to take that deep exhale at the end of the day when they finally came off.
And it was only after becoming a mother myself that a lightbulb went off inside my self-size-shaming brain. Somewhere in the last five years, I stopped caring about what I looked like, and focused more on what I feel like; in this current body of mine. The priority is no longer to look perfect in a form fitting dress; the goal isn’t to look gaunt on a girls’ night. Instead, the focus is to be strong- so I can carry my girls and everything else motherhood brings. I need energy to keep up with them; I need speed to chase after them; I need a healthy heart to love them for years and years and years to come; and solid, long-lasting bones to run after their own babies one day.
And in this time, as this perspective changed, so did the conversation that I have with myself. I spend a whole lot less time criticizing, and a lot more time praising. The nitpicking and doubts are replaced with gratitude. There have been plenty of times when I felt like this body of mine had betrayed me- through loss and infertility and hormonal imbalances. But, more often than not, it’s shown up- for me, and my family. For my beautiful girls. It has rewarded me with my two greatest gifts. It carried them through nine months of pregnancy; it healed after neurosurgery; it overcame PCOS and all those losses to create two beautiful lives. And for that, I thank it daily- loose skin and stretch marks and cellulite and all.
So today, instead of torturing myself with the discomfort of too-small “inspiration” pants and screaming buttons; I opt for the better size. To honor this body by dressing it comfortably- so I can move throughout the day happily with my girls. That’s not to say I don’t have goals- to get leaner, stronger. That I don’t strive for progress; or to be healthier. But I’ve chosen to be kinder to myself; more patient, more grateful. And to show my girls that chicken legs or wrist rolls- they’re perfection just the way they are.
