It’s random thoughts day here at To Di For Fitness.
I had a busy, hectic night at work last night thanks to OSU football, so I woke up this morning feeling kind of hungover. That’s not a problem, really, except that I consumed zero alcohol. If I’m going to feel like shit the next day, it better because I had me some damn good beer the night before. But, no. Ohio State played in and won the national championship, so I was at work in the Sports department of the Columbus Dispatch until nearly 2 a.m. designing today’s sports sections. Check it out here.
Anyhoo, when I feel like this my mind wanders (OK, maybe it wanders at other times, too), usually ending up on something fitness related. Because that’s my happy place.
Today I landed on how happy or unhappy I am with my body, now that I’ve made a boatload of changes and have finally hit that point where I’m mostly satisfied. Or am I? Despite having lost more than 40 pounds and 17 percent body fat in a little more than five years, I still sometimes focus on my imperfections.
I’m 46 and I’ve housed four babies in this body. Weird shit happens. Since I had my last kid at age 40, I’ve managed to get pretty lean, specifically in my mid-section. I see muscle tone everywhere, and I’m especially proud of my back and shoulders.
But you know what else I see? Stretch marks and wrinkles and strange lines and varicose veins and loose skin. These things won’t go away no matter how hard I work in the gym or kitchen.
Once I had my little “ew” moment, I got over it. Not that I won’t revisit it from time to time, but I’m generally OK with these things because they show I’m not perfect and I never will be. I’m not supposed to be. I’m just supposed to be me and that should be OK with me. Whether or not it’s OK with you shouldn’t matter.
