self-acceptance

Hey you guys, getting older is hard as shit! I’m just going to lay it all out there. Since I turned thirty-six last September, I’ve gained about fifteen pounds. The first seven of those were gained mysteriously. I’d been eating healthy about 80% of the time and not eating junk food or drinking any more than usual. I tried dieting and working out more frequently, but the number on the scale just would not budge! The last eight pounds were not a great mystery. Frustrated by seeing no visible progress on the scale or in how my clothes fit, I just said F*&! it! I wasn’t binge eating, but I let myself have those fries with my sandwich, that extra beer during dinner and ice cream with the kids (none of that frozen yogurt bullshit!).

Now I know that I’ve been lucky the first thirty-five years of my life. I’ve always loved fruits and vegetables and grew up living in a house where they were an important part of our diet. I had a fast metabolism that allowed me to eat and drink whatever I wanted in moderation and still stay fairly slim. During college I picked up the healthy habits we so frequently hear about, but had ignored all through my teen years. What a cruel trick that all the healthy things I’d been doing to keep my body slim for a decade and a half: swap soda for water, get 10,000 steps a day, eat whole grains, etc, suddenly weren’t working anymore. And why the hell does no one prepare you for this? Maybe they did, but I just didn’t want to listen. It seems like letting me know that one Dove promise would have the same effect on my waistline as a pint of ice cream would be a worthwhile topic for my GP to talk to me about, right?

I know we’re expected to be above it all. I realize that I am incredibly lucky to have this healthy body that can exercise and play with my kids. There are plenty of people out there with much bigger weight struggles and more serious health issues. However, I don’t think that means that I can’t verbalize the frustration I’ve been feeling about how much harder I have to work these days to see even a small amount of change. It’s also a struggle to decide if I should just stop making the effort at all. I love food and beer. If being fifteen pounds lighter means I can’t ever eat pasta or drink my favorite IPA then, is it really worth it? Wouldn’t I rather be heavier, but still enjoy my life?

Over the last few months I’ve been squeezing my body into the sausage casings that are my shorts and jeans that I wore comfortably last summer. Finally last night I decided enough is enough. I swallowed my pride and did something I’d been dreading: I shopped for pants to find out my new size. It was a little demoralizing, but I found some things that I feel comfortable in. Now I can stop feeling shame and guilt every time I try on my too-tight shorts. This may not be my body forever, but it is the body I have now. I may not be able to embrace it yet, but I will try to accept it.

My body and I have been through a lot together. In the very early years we lived through sexual abuse. Later, we walked away from that relationship together. We’ve gone through morning sickness and childbirth three times. Sometimes we’ve eaten clean. Countless other times, we’ve binged on Tostitos lime chips and salsa. I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s a process, and my aging metabolism is just another bump in the road. My body and I have worked through tougher things than this and came out stronger. I may not know where we’re headed now, but I’m going to trust that we’ll work together to get to somewhere comfortable for both of us. I’ll keep you posted.

How has aging changed your relationship with your body? If you have any advice or insights, please leave them in the comments.

🙂 Erin

I don’t know about you, maybe you’re all extremely secure and self-loving, but I tend more toward the critical, self-deprecating school of thinking. After spending the last seven years at home with my kids, I often feel like the least intelligent person in the room. As I inch closer to forty, I step onto the scale and groan aloud over the growing number, and I spend way too much time grimacing in the mirror instead of smiling. My kids are with me all the time. It’s impossible that they’re not picking up on this. In my quiet moments alone, so approximately once a month, it tears me up to think that I’m passing on this lack of self-esteem to them.

I sincerely hope this isn’t an issue for you, but in case it is, here are ten books to teach your kids about the importance of self-esteem, being yourself, etc. while you work on your own self-acceptance.

Giraffes Can’t Dance by Giles Andreae and Guy Parker-Rees– With adorable illustrations and rhymes, this book tells the story of Gerald the Giraffe. He was mocked by all of the other animals for his horrible dancing, until he found his own music and basically became Africa’s So You Think You Can Dance Champion. Suck it, haters!

Unloveable by Dan Yaccarino-Alfred the pug is made fun of for his short legs and pug nose until he feels that he must be unloveable. Then he meets another dog who teaches him about friendship and just how lovable he really is. This book is a great intro to self-love for toddlers and preschoolers. Hey, it’s never too early!

It’s Ok to be Different and It’s OK to Make Mistakes by Todd Parr-I LOVE all of Todd Parr’s books. Each one is designed to make kids, and parents, feel good about themselves and the world around them. This is a guy I’d love to grab a beer with.

I Like Me-by Nancy Carlson-This book stars a lovable pig who tells readers all about how much she loves her body and how it moves. I credit this book as being part of the  eason my five year old knows she is hot shit. Right on, piggy! Now, if only I could bottle some of her confidence to save for her teen years.

Spaghetti in a Hot Dog Bun by Maria Dismondy and Kathy Hiatt–

This book does a good job of teaching a few important lessons. It teaches about the importance of being kind to others, even when they’re not kind in return. It also teaches kids to keep doing what makes them happy, even if other people think they’re strange. I am an odd person with quirky kids, so I embrace this kind of thinking.

Chrysanthemum by Kevin Henkes-Chrysanthemum has always been proud of her name, but when she starts school she is teased. She wonders if she’d be better off with a “normal” name until she meets her music teacher, Delphineum. I love that this book teaches children that, even when we feel alone, there is often someone else who is going or has gone through the same thing, and that sharing our problems can take some of the load off our own shoulders.

A Bad Case of Stripes by David Shannon-We celebrate David Shannon’s entire collection in our house, but this thoughtful book is our favorite. Camilla Cream loves lima beans, but never eats them because she desperately wants to fit in.  After listening too much to others and going through many uncomfortable changes, she eventually learns to accept herself. I think the book is a great metaphor for the way we feel when we try to please others instead of ourselves.

Violet the Pilot by Steve Breen– Violet is a young inventor who builds a flying machine and uses it to rescue a boy scout troop in danger. So much of the fiction our kids are exposed to from birth shows male characters saving the poor, defenseless female. F that noise! I like that this book could lead to discussions about gender stereotypes, especially if your kids are like mine and use your weakness for discussing such topics as a way to delay their bedtime.

I Love You, Stinky Face by Lisa McCourt-This is one of my kids’ favorites about a child who asks his mother if she would still love him if he was a series of disgusting and/or terrifying creatures. Of course she would, and she informs him how she’d take care of him in each of the scenarios he creates. After spending much of my day yelling at my kids, I like to try to make sure they understand  that I can dislike their behavior, but always love them. This book does a great job of capturing that sentiment.

The Olivia books by Ian Falconer-These books were one of my son’s earliest obsessions so, not to brag, but I consider myself something of an expert. Olivia the pig is a straight up, take no prisoners, bad-ass character. She is uber-confident and marches to the beat of her own drummer. Basically, she is my role model.

If we could just love ourselves like we love our kids, we’d be golden. I wish you all self-acceptance and the wisdom to teach your children, not just how awesome they are, but how great you are as well. Good night.

🙂 Erin