I lied. I didn’t return the red dress.
I was going to. It was all packed up and ready to go. And then I posted my blog and friends started to tell me to wear the bloody red dress. Some of my favourite comments…
- “With a dress like that who needs Tinder?”
- “Oh f*ck. You look hot.”
- And, from my BFF: “When your tits look like that, no one is going to notice your stomach.”
So I hemmed, and hawed, and planned to wear something else. But at the last minute (literally) I grabbed the red dress and wore it.
It was a hit.
Here’s the thing my friends. I’m sick to death of feeling bad about my body. I’m done. I refuse to do it anymore.
I saw this sign the other day on Pinterest.
(Yes, we’ve covered this, I’m an unashamed Pinterest addict).
This sign really spoke to me. You see… I allowed my inner monster to be the loudest voice in my head for most of my life. Things that my inner monster told me…
- “You’re fat”
- “You’re stupid”
- “You’re boring”
- “You’re lazy”
- “You don’t deserve better”
- “People don’t like you”
- “They are all laughing at you”
The list could go on and on.
Growing up PE was hell because I was so self conscious that all I could think about was how stupid and uncoordinated I was and how everyone must be laughing at me. Inevitably this made me worse than I ever should have been. (Let me take a moment here to apologize to any of you who were ever on my team).
As I’ve grown older the voice telling me that I was fat and unattractive has become the loudest voice. I made it okay for others to treat me this way.
I’m sick to death of this voice and I’m letting it go.
I think that I have seen and known too much of the way that our bodies can betray us. Our bodies get sick. They hurt for no reason. They will put us in the hospital or onto horrible medications. They will take us away too soon.
I don’t trust my body to not let me down.
And so I’ve continuously let it down.
I have spent most of my life as a brain that is being carried around. I haven’t reveled in the physical. I have tried to keep in shape and to feed myself well… but more often than not… I have failed.
My body has been an inconvenience. I have treated it as such.
So that little monster who tells me that I am fat? It’s probably kind of right.
But I don’t freaking care.
My body is here to take me places. To hike in the mountains, swim in a lake, kayak in the ocean. To work and to play.
We grow up hearing about diets, and Spanx, and those pesky last 10 pounds. This thinking becomes a part of our consciousness. Hell, I’ve tried every diet there is.
Why don’t we change our language surrounding our bodies?
- “I want to hike a mountain this summer”
- “I want to run a marathon”
- “I want to put time and effort into my food because it sustains me”
Spin it so that we aren’t looking at our bodies as objects that should be a certain way. So that we look at them as something to care for and to use. Let’s teach our sons and daughters that caring for themselves is what makes them beautiful.
I’m done feeling bad about how I look, telling myself bad things. It’s a tough habit to stop. But I’m learning to be confident. To say: “This is who I am, take it or leave it”. It still shocks me when a man finds me attractive and I need to get over that sh*t.
So I wore the red dress.