Scallywag Sprints wrote a brilliant post about body perception. She touched on how she’d hated her own body and how she’d never realised that it was ok to NOT hate, that it was ok to like, even to love your own body. She has come to the conclusion that she respects her body and that is good.
We’ve had our ups and downs, but I can genuinely say I love my body.
I DO love my body. It carries me to the top of mountains, to the finish lines on marathons and on silly, crazy, wonderful adventures with friends. Some of which may involve running. And swimming in lakes.
|Beer & ice cream adventures ...|
But I didn’t always love it. I disliked how my thighs were curvy at the top and disliked the freckles on my face. The strange toes and the knobbly knuckles.
|Chicken hat adventures ...|
But as I’ve got older, I’ve softened. Towards my body. I’m kinder. Familiarity has brought love. And acceptance. And gratitude.
People my age die. Their bodies succumbing to illnesses, diseases, cancer.
But I go moving forwards. Stumbling onwards. Literally stumbling a lot of the time. I DO love my body, but accept that grace and coordination will probably not be attributes I will ever possess physically. I don’t need coordination that much. I can kick like a mule. Run like the wind. But you don’t want to see me dance.
|Very, very flat adventures ...|