I’ve always hated weighing myself. Ever since I can remember, it’s always been such a point of discouragement for me. I have never seemed to reach the weight I always thought I should be. Now, introduce peri-menopause into the mix!! Hello hot flashes and gaining weight in places for no apparent reason. Now, it seems like nothing I can do is going to change the mind of my scale. I’ve finally come to a realization-as a woman, I am worth more than a number on our scale. I have given so much power to a scale that I didn’t even realize that’s what I was doing and the power it had over me. Nevermind that I know I am more than a number in God’s eyes…I wanted to see it in my scale.
My body has birthed 3 babies and my weight had nothing to do with it. Not to mention, one of those babies was a whopping NINE pounds. My body has endured so much and still, it had nothing to do with my body weight. Nor any imperfection I tend to see with a magnifying glass for that matter.
I look at my legs and see dimples, marks, and veins. Somehow, I’ve forgotten the miles that my legs have allowed me to walk alongside my husband hand in hand. The two half marathons I accomplished? Yeah, all because of my legs. All of the dance parties in the kitchen that my legs have granted me have seemed to be pushed aside pushing my focus to the insecure places of all the imperfections.
I look at my arms. I no longer want to point out the scars and the “softer” side of them. When I look at my arms, I want to remember all of the countless nights I rocked my babies to sleep.I want to look forward to using these same arms to one day possibly hold a grandchild.
Every single imperfection I might see…so many great memories were born right from them. My body has never once failed me and I’m ready to start saying ‘thank you’. If I am constantly worried about what I might look like in a certain top or bathing suit, I am quickly losing out on the memories that are happening all around me.
I might see a wrinkle, but if I look closer I can remember that wrinkle was caused by laughter. I might see a stretch mark, but when I examine it I can remember my skin being stretched (to what it felt like was the ends of the earth) to make a perfect home for my baby developing inside of my tummy. I remember one time my daughter Emaleigh telling me she “loved the color of my skin because it had stripes!” Heck yes it does, and my body earned me every one of those stripes.
As a woman in my 40s, I’m no longer in the era of trying to look like the woman on the tv screen. I am more concerned with the woman I have already become. I am proud of my body and I encourage you to be proud of yours! If we are constantly picking out all of the negative things about ourselves, we are literally spitting in the face of the creator–The one who made us perfectly imperfect.
I miss all of those things that we used to do, but oh how I look forward to the things we still have yet to do and how (even as they get older) I know they’ll still need us. Obviously not to rock them to sleep, cut up their food, or drive them back and forth to school events…but other, bigger things.
When I enrolled at UNC 2 years ago, I knew that I would be on an unforgettable journey to finish college. To get a chuckle out of others on social media, I immediately began a hashtag dubbed, #collegelifeat33. Before long, I found myself sharing my struggles, my jokes, my experience…my real life as a college student using the hashtag. Then, I turned 34. Now what? I simply changed it to #collegelifeat34 and kept on sharing and pushing forward.
mrsmomdragon 