A friend of mine suggested I do the ‘Buss It’ challenge, to which I replied, What in the world is that? And then I googled it.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Tik-Tok challenge a person, shows themselves jiving and swaying to the start of a song talking about:
Checkin’ your reflection and tellin’ your best friend
Like, “Girl, I think my butt gettin’ big” — Buss It (Erica Banks)
They’re dressed in their comfy clothes. Hoodies, sweatpants, any piece of clothing that says, I am comfortable, and I give two f*cks about what anyone thinks. An ode to the chaos and madness and insanity that was 2020.
In a flash, they drop it like it’s hot, (yes I know I’m showing my age) and magically transformed into the most gorgeous, sexy, beautiful version of themselves.
It’s clever. It’s catchy. There are reasons these things go viral.
I will not be one of those people or one of those things going viral.
I told my friend that I had absolutely mastered the moment before these people turned into beautiful, magically, wonderous unicorns — but the whole turning myself into a unicorn thing couldn’t happen.
Ask me again in like 20lbs…
I couldn’t believe the words came out of my mouth. Here I thought I was no longer fluent in body-shaming, only in body positivity.
My weight and how I carry it on my body was the very first reason why I said I couldn’t participate. Really it’s not that I couldn’t — it’s that I wouldn’t.
Never mind the fact I don’t have Tik-Tock, nor would I know how to operate it.
Never mind the fact I don’t know how to do the whole music and transition thing.
The first thought that came to my mind was to be concerned about what others would think. Should I really be displaying this body — my body, in that way? Is there even a beautiful, gorgeous, unicorn version of myself to drop into?
I cared more about what others would think before I thought how I would feel. Let that sink in for a minute. How many times have you done or not done something because you were afraid of being judged?
Six out of the seven days a week I love my body.
I love that after I jog, I feel like freaking Wonder Woman.
I love that I can take a 3-mile walk with my sister without getting winded.
I love that I am strong enough to heave up my 8-year-old and let her hug and hang on me like a baby orangutan.
But let me tell you, on that 1 day I don’t love my body I am so mean. I am so cruel to myself with the language I use, and then it makes me sad, and I get caught in this never-ending loop.
‘I wish I could love myself as much as you do.’
— Me to someone who has loved me unconditionally
All I want to do is love myself, but I also want to love how I feel in my body.
I want to feel confident and strong and beautiful and sexy. I want to feel comfortable in my own skin. I have a picture in my mind of what all of that looks like on me.
Feeling this way, left me asking myself, can I truly love my body if I also want to change my body? Even if the change comes with weight-loss?
If you’ve read any of my previous work on body love and body image, you already know the answer.
Yes. You can absolutely love your body and still lose weight.
The difference lies in your intention. The reason behind your choices is what makes the difference between body-shaming and body love.
I’m not losing weight to be thin.
I’m not losing weight to be attractive.
I’m not losing weight to chase your ideal or societies ideal body.
If I lose weight and change my body, it will be a byproduct of healthier choices.
Do not punish your body by exercise honor your body with movement — losing weight shouldn’t be the reason it would be a result.
Consider your choices before reaching for food that leaves your mind cloudy or doesn’t agree with your digestion; Eat mindfully and choose foods that leave you feeling good.
As for me, I’m still not going to do the ‘Buss It’ Challenge…
Not because I care what y’all think, and not because my body doesn’t look like all the rest.
It’s because I don’t know if these 30-year-old knees would ever recover.
For more on body image and working every day to love yourself —