In My body I shall live….

An article about being uncomfortable in her body from a girl who has never been “fat” by society’s standards.

What would I know about being uncomfortable about being in my own skin? Well, a lot actually…… From the time that I was too skinny, called chicken legs, to the time I was considered model material, praised for my legs, while still obsessing over the size of my thighs, to the time, I went from a size 3 to a size 9, gaining 20 lbs in a month, crying, while standing in front of my closet, trying to get dressed for work. I went to the gym, I ran, I went to the doctor, I was as healthy as a horse, I was told. Ha! I surely felt like a horse.  Any girl, reading this, who has ever gained even 5 lbs, knows exactly what it feels like not to fit into a pair of pants, let alone your whole closet, it’s devastating. Becoming “voluptuous” overnight after having been the “perfect” ballerina shape (even per your harsh ballet teacher’s critique), well to un-become that – it’s disheveling at best. It’s horrendous, actually, it’s uncomfortable, it’s the big white elephant in the room, it’s having your high heels feel uncomfortable because your feet have gotten fatter, it’s being uncomfortable bending over and doing the things you used to love the most, like running. It’s like switching roles with a stranger. 22  years in one body, and in one month, you’re in someone else’s. Surprise! The breasts you’ve always wanted are there, your cute butt, becomes even cuter, yet, you feel uglier, like you want to rip yourself out of the awkwardness………Knowing that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you, in a scientific and medical term, is even more frustrating, SURELY there must be a reasonable explanation. Well, there isn’t. Maybe it’s depression, loneliness, age, or even “too much exercise”, you eventually learn to get along with it, to one day, a year later to be exact, have it shredded in a matter of two weeks, because you find out your boyfriend is doing things he is not supposed to. Glory be to the stresses of a girl’s life…..
How truly sensitive our bodies are…..Who would have thought, the skinny ballerina would know what it’s like to have fat rolls hanging over her jeans…..
Fast forward five years later, to a much more confident, healthier, and muscular “ballerina” turned belly-dancer/ CrossFitter…..and she has ALMOST figured out how to be comfortable in her own body.
But wait ladies and gents, the world is one cold harsh bitch, and she is NOT supportive. The skinny clothes still exist, they pierce at you as you open your closet, quietly snarling at you as you try to put on that one shirt or dress, for which your traps have quiet honestly  just outgrew, yet making you feel like the Incredible Hulk, in a not so cute way.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with being skinny, but if you choose to be something other than skinny there is nothing wrong with that either.
Being told you need to eat a cookie, is just as uncomfortable as being told you need to put the cookie down. The cookies have since turned Paleo and the demons now scream to quit being so paranoid about “eating healthy”.
These days there’s much more to worry about than just cookies/ or no cookies, there are now GMO filled fruits and veggies, steroid/hormone filled meat, and food that contains absolutely zero natural substances, oh but Little Debby Ding Dongs are sooo good, bring them back, please don’t discontinue them, I’m kidding of course, but don’t think that I don’t fall into the occasional, Krispy Kreme doughnut, slice of cheesecake or a peanut butter waffle.
I’m a big girl, I can say no, I know, but I choose not to. But for every time I make a healthy conscious choice to eat a salad, there is no one patting me on the back, and more often than not there is someone telling me to eat something else. How frustrating.
The point to all this is this,  I’m tired of hearing what I and every other darn female on the planet “should” look like, what “feminine” means, and what’s “too much”. Damn it, if I’m healthy, happy and strong, who gives a shit.
No I am not working out too much, no I will not quit CrossFit, I will not work out less, no I will not be “sensible” and eat pasta and loafs of white bread, no Paleo is not a diet, no  I’m not always Paleo, but yes I am eating healthy, I am not dieting, yes I still eat cookies, no they are not always Paleo.
I love the bruises I have, I love the scars that CrossFit gave me. Why? because in some weird way they have validated my imperfection, my “humanity” if you will, my inner need to be judged on something other than my looks and my “femininity”. Who, what and where has given humanity a “definition” what is “supposed to be”, and what a woman should look like. I think that is my least favorite phrase, “supposed to be”.
I will always be a dancer at heart, BUT I will always have a stronger need to feel my strength, which I can’t accomplish through only dance.
My mom used to say that ballerinas don’t play sports. I suppose someone will tell me bellydancers don’t CrossFit, or vice versa, but frankly my dear I don’t give a damn.
I will strive to push myself and my body, and in that I will glorify God and the Universe, and when I am met with opposition, strange looks and words of DIScouragement, I will sigh, roll my eyes, and ask a Higher Power for strength to keep carrying on. I hope that every woman reading this, thinking it, or considering it, has the strength to do the same. No one validates you, but you.

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