How do we get comfortable in our own skin?
A declaration of my own hypocrisy
I’m prefacing this posting with a declaration of my own hypocrisy. That’s right I said it, I’m a big ole’ hypocrite. My story goes like this…
I’d known about this morning’s planned bike ride for at least a week. Yesterday, (in my infinite wisdom), I decided it would be best if I packed the baby on our family hike. Sounds fine except for the fact that I haven’t been hiking at all since I had the baby. My husband joked that I’d only make it part way up the hill. In fact, he designated the particular place where I would conk out. That’s all he had to say and it was “game on.” I hiked about 1,000 feet of climb with 23 pounds on my back. I won’t go into details however, it was pushing 70 degrees (sorry Midwest and East Coasters). I was sweaty and out of shape, but there was no way I would let my tall, slender, “fitness-and-diet-always-come-easy” husband win. Dang it, I was going to pack that 23 pounds (kid and backpack containing kid) if it was the last thing I did. Stubborn much? Probably. It was a small victory, but victory none-the-less. Which brings me back to this morning and the task at hand — the morning bike ride.
I was to be riding with my good friend and forever fitness buddy Lynae. Did I mention that she’s also our model at Fit Girl Redefined? The plan was to meet at 10am for a medium-challenging ride. It included a couple of decent hills, some fun flats and a solid challenge for someone trying to get back into shape. At 6am I fed the baby. At 7am I checked emails. By 8am, I’m watching the Sunday morning news and drinking coffee. (Not a care in the world.) By 9am I know that I should probably start getting ready and by 9:30 I’m in full freak mode because I can’t find anything to wear! Somewhere, the rational part of my brain is thinking, “seriously?” “Pull it together, throw on the spandex and let’s go!” But “Rational Jenny” was suppressed and “Crazy Jenny” was making a full-on appearance.
The “bike box” had been pulled off the shelf and jerseys, shorts, bibs, you name it and they were being put on, frowned at and yanked back off. If it wasn’t too tight, it was too bright. (Because why would I want cars to actually see me?) Yes I know, I don’t make any sense. In the end, I broke my own rule and wore black spandex. This behavior is coming from the person who secretly chastises other cyclists for wearing all-black. Sigh. The point is, I worked myself up into a self-deprecating frenzy. Here’s where the hypocrisy comes in. I’m always preaching about how we should love our bodies. Plus size women, regular sized women, you name it, we shouldn’t try to be what we’re not. Right or wrong, I believe our bodies have a certain weight they want to be and are comfortable with. Some of us will always be heavier than others and in my opinion it doesn’t mean that those people can’t be healthy. I think we should treat our bodies well. Eat fresh (not processed) and be as active and fit as we can. I won’t ever be a size 6 or even an 8 and I need to (someday) accept it. So my question is, how do we get comfortable in our own skin? How do we accept who we are and be happy with the cards we’ve been dealt? I’m definitely talking the talk, but am somehow unable to “walk the walk.”
This brings me to the present. We finished a 22 mile ride and had a darn good Sunday. So how do I get comfortable in my own skin? I’ll start by reflecting on where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. Unlike the behavior I displayed earlier in the day, I’ll give myself credit. Lastly I’ll learn to heed my own words.
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