i’d rather be a little fluffy, thanks.
I’d planned to post today about some of my “Season of No” revelations/changes, but this topic has been on my mind for the past little bit (especially after writing that birthday letter to myself) and I need to get it out. No pics, just words.
I was looking down at myself in the shower today. You know…how we all do. After a day full of birthday treats and laying around, my belly was what I would call, “a little fluffy.” Bloated and fluffy. Thoughts quickly entered my head. You know…how they always do.
“You should probably detox tomorrow. No sugar, no flour, 200 ounces of water.” (tomorrow being the operative word, because as we all know, you need a full day of prepared gorging before starving yourself into a wisp.)
“You’ve let yourself go, Lindsay.”
“Travis knows. He just would never tell you.”
The first truth is: Over the past year, I HAVE had a more relaxed approach to food and exercise. I’m sure I HAVE gained weight. My clothes fit perfectly fine – no snugness there. I’m WAY stronger – I can outsquat my former self by about nearly 70 pounds!! I’m killing it at the gym! But overall I’m not as “wisp-ish” as I have been in the past.
The second truth is: I really don’t care.
I’d rather be a little fluffy if it means that I get to spend more time with my kids than time in the gym.
I’d rather be a little fluffy if it means that I get to eat chocolate every day. It’s just too damn good.
I’d rather be a little fluffy if it means that my thoughts aren’t consumed with the scale or counting every.single.calorie that passes through my lips. What a waste.
I’d rather be a little fluffy if it means FINALLY being comfortable in my skin.
You know what? I know that I could easily lose 5 pounds. (10 if I lost muscle.) I have the discipline (perhaps a little too much). Losing weight comes easily for me (and I’m not trying to boast about that – please hear my heart.) What’s hard for me now, now that I’ve climbed out of that obsessive black hole, is being ok with a life that isn’t consumed by vanity. My struggle comes from shifting my discipline to the heart and not the body. I wrote a letter to this body that I love, but what I failed to tell it was that it’s merely a vessel. My beauty, my worth, my future – those things are held inside. In a culture that praises obsessions and the outward, the last thing I want to be consumed with is how I look. Spending even a SECOND fretting over how big my butt is – that’s a total waste of my time.
Because looks fade.
Because there is such a thing as being TOO healthy.
Because Clara and Henry deserve a REAL role model. Not a supermodel.
Because my heart isn’t in it. (Thank you, Father!)
Because I’d rather eat chocolate than not.
And because fluffy looks good on me. Because I’m smiling.