As a runner, and a self conscious teenager I became obsessed with staying thin, and in shape. And lacking a strong feminine role model, as I got older, despite the words of the man that loved me, I stayed avid in my workouts, and, other than drinking, rigid in my diet. This carried over to being uncomfortable when I was pregnant, an experience I think I would feel much differently about now, perhaps cherish the change, not fight it.

Pregnancy caused great distress on my stomach. I am tiny. And, prior to my son’s birth, my belly button was blue and bruised, my stretch marks were purple and my skin burned because it was stretched so tight. There was nothing to cherish by this point except the end.

Following my son’s birth I was as accepting as I could be. I began running, and with breast feeding and working all the weight came off very quickly. As I regained the form I thought I knew so well, I realized I was in fact regaining something entirely different. My body would never be the same, nor would my life.

When my marriage began to suffer, I thought that improving my appearance might help and again became focused on how I looked, though it was only focused outwardly, on the inside, I was torn to pieces. I was confused and lacking confidence.

Recently though, the battle has ended. About a year to a year and a half ago I began to realize that I would have to work at being fat, and sloppy, that I was an active and healthy young person who could more than afford to indulge once in a while. And slowly, as I began to run less, but play at the playground more, lift weights less, but throw the base ball more, eat less routinely, but when I am hungry, occasionally eat ice cream, cake, pizza, fires, egg rolls etc. As I slowly began to let go, I also began to understand the natural balance of my body and how it regulates itself, and informs quite specifically, what I need and want.

Now, I am ok with it. with all of it.