Ever since I can remember I've had issues with myself.

Physically, that is. Okay, maybe a little dramatic. But this is my boo-ya.

In the 11th grade I helped design my prom dress that my mother made with loving hands and many hours (have I thanked you again recently, mom?). It had shoulder cap sleeves because I couldn't stand the sight of my freckled shoulders. There was even a time that I had poured lemon juice over them and scrubbed because some girl told me that was the secret to "flawless skin".

When I was 20, a newly wed and right after having our first child I became a good bully to myself for my 60 pound weight gain. Instead of marveling at the body that had grown a healthy newborn and was built by nature to nurture, I punished it willingly to try any "quick fix" to get my flat, stretch mark-free stomach back.

Let me tell you how that turned out.

I was neurotic in the years to come, trying any and every diet out there. Any late night infomercial had me convinced that my problems could be solved with grapefruit, eliminating all carbs, tracking every gram of sugar.

All these years of yearning to be something more {or less} than what I really was, became exhausting. I would start a new diet, always on a Monday, and by the end of the week I was binging on whatever forbidden foods I could get my hands on.


I have learned that I am not perfect. Not even close.

What I have learned:

-I cannot eliminate entire food groups from my diet. It's just not realistic.
-At this point I have lost all self-control. I don't even know when I'm truly full.
-I am much too hard on myself.
-I don't have a positive relationship with my body, and I've lost touch of what it means to be happy with being me.

I don't know where to go from here, other than re-learning how to have a positive relationship with myself, and therefor becoming a happier version of me. Freckles and all. Self acceptance is a term that I take very seriously. And I think it's about time to start rekindling that relationship.

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