When the Mirror Doesn't Match Your Mind

Body image...yeah I'm going there. 

I happened upon this quote today and it has just been rolling around in my head all day.

You see I've been struggling lately, okay more than lately. Maybe since January when I collided with my driveway and went from running 4 times a week and lifting weights 2-3 times a week to absolutely nothing. 

I've always been thin, literally my entire life. Okay, not my entire life, there was that whole stretch from birth to maybe preschool where I had more rolls than a bakery...

Shout out to my Grandpa for forever memorializing said rolls with this photo. Also a shout out to my Grandma for having that wallpaper because it's majestic AF.

Junior high gave me that ever so sought after gangly nothing but limbs and nose look that was popular sometime between never and not ever.

Those shorts...wtf...

Everything from this picture on was a solid awkward stage and no, I shall not be sharing any more photos. Let's just say my haircuts did me no favors.

By senior year of high school, I would say I finally came into my own. And by senior year, I mean literally mean moments before I walked across the stage to get my diploma. 

I choose not to discuss the poster I am holding up in this photo, except I will say it was a gag gift and it lived in my dorm freshman year. 

But college, that is where I finally found myself as far as my image. It's also where I learned some of the nasty habits that would plague me for years.

I mean, I was totes adorbs, right? I'm also wishing I kept that tank top. 

But the reality is that girl was not happy. Not just with my body image, but with the mental image of myself as well. When that picture was taken I was in the most toxic relationship that only amplified everything. I had to look a certain way, act a certain way. I had to be a trophy. 

I did whatever I had to do to be that trophy. I distinctly remember not eating a lot, if anything. I smoked like a chimney to curb my appetite and basically existed on Red Bull to stay awake. 

It wasn't healthy. The fact that nothing serious happened to me shocks me to this day. And what's even scarier, is that nobody knew. 

But it didn't stop. When I was getting married I kicked it into high gear and kept it that way until after we were married. And I would like to point out my husband is the polar opposite of the toxic person and literally could care less if I was a size 4 or 14. But for me, in my own mind, old habits die hard. Being thin was always synonymous with being pretty in my mind.

This was the thinnest I had been in years. I distinctly remember my Dad telling me I was too thin that night. I didn't believe him, I thought he was being ridiculous. 

 I was in the gym constantly, food was the enemy, everything had restrictions. Eat too much? Better work it off. That amazing Red Bull habit picked back up during this time as well. The less I ate, the more Red Bull I consumed. It was the only way to stay awake. Again, how did I not have anything serious happen to me?

This was my mind. This is was the voice constantly in my head. 

Then I got pregnant with twins.

Good God.

I like to say I gained 70lbs when I was pregnant, but let's be real, 70 means 80ish. I also gained the majority in my last trimester, but I wouldn't change it. I had big, healthy, strong babies. My goal was to leave the hospital with them and I did just that. 

But after...

Oh Lord...

I hated myself. I hated what I looked like, I hated everything about it. My stomach was literally destroyed. I had stretch marks everywhere. I fell into a depression. 

God love Scott, he looked into surgeries thinking it would make me feel better, but I knew in my heart it wouldn't. It can't change what your mind sees when it looks in the mirror. 

So then my obsessive self took to walking with my friends. We would push our kids around different neighborhoods and walk miles a day. The weight came off, but I still hated myself. 

If we are being honest it took almost all 11 years since they were born to finally embrace this body of mine. I can say I finally have a healthy relationship with food. I completely credit running with this shift. I began to look at everything as fuel, not a reward, not a punishment. Fuel. Working out became my time. Time to clear my mind and make myself stronger, not skinnier. 

Last month I was bathing suit (it still makes me groan) shopping and my friend Sarah finally said "buy the damn bikini" and my friend Leona added, "wear the damn bikini."

I did it.

Are the stretch marks still there? Totally. Do I have that mom pooch because my abs are totally split from carrying the weight of two babies at one time? Oh for sure. 

But you know what, I don't care anymore. At this point, my goal is to stay fit. My goal is to continue to have this body do totally incredible things like run marathons and lift heavier than the guy on the machine next to me, all with a smile on my face. 

Is it still a daily struggle? It can be. Did I feel myself edge towards old habits when I was immobile from my injury? 100% But I caught myself. I let myself get doughy knowing I could bounce back. 

Real talk...am I 100% confident in my skin? No, but I'd say I'm a solid 75% which is so much better than I ever was. 

Would anyone ever know this was the case? Doubt it. I can promise you anyone that knows me today would be shocked by all of this, simply based on the fact that whenever you see me I'm probably shoveling food in my mouth. 

At the end of the day, I'll take the girl in the beach chair with stretch marks over the girl who starved herself to wear a size 4. I'm pretty sure I could bench that girl anyway. 

Stay strong everyone.