There are four men I've never met who had great influence on me. Together, they are The Beatles. It has been pointed out to me, recently, that these men I do not know but I love, may have lead me slightly astray. "All you need is love," The Beatles told me. The argument came that life is hard and love isn't all you need. You also need food, water, shelter, support, feelings of self-worth, and the list goes on and on and on. Basically, it's not enough to love a baby to help it grow into a functioning human. It's not enough to love your friend to be a good friend--you also have to make time for them and listen. It's not enough to love your significant other--you also have to consider their feelings/thoughts/schedules. You get the picture.

     "It's easy!" The Beatles also told me. This part I agree with. Loving is easy. I think the work comes in choosing to act on that love. To listen, to make time, to consider someone else, to support, all of it. OK, I get this. I see where I was wrong. Today while I was running, though, I was thinking about self-love. Sometimes it's not easy to love yourself. And when that happens all of the other choices--self-worth, support, taking time for yourself--all of the things you might do for someone else you love fall out the window when it comes to loving you.

    I've tricked myself into believing that I am really good a self-love, because I tend to be proud of my brain and like to read and learn and improve. I've only just started to see that self-love spread outward to my body as well. In college I had a not-life-threatening-but-still-not-healthy eating disorder--I ate, but very strictly, tracked every calorie and was in a constant battle to get the calories out number as high as I could and the calories in number lower. At my worst I weight 117 pounds and had 11% body fat. Even that skinny, I didn't love my body--it was just a vehicle getting me around.

     The first two years after college I gained my Friends Fifteen, so-called because my college roommates and I were homebodies and didn't go out a ton. When they moved, I had to find new friends and go out to be social. Going out meant I had to loosen up on my calorie standards. It also meant I drank more. But I didn't care as much about the weight gain because I had friends and, especially as an introvert, making friends isn't easy after college. I'd for sure thought when my roommates moved I'd be alone forever.

     When I was running today, in a sports bra and shorts, I remembered how jealous I used to be of my aunt's confidence to run in only a sports bra. I never would've done this when I weighed twenty pounds less. The last few years, it's been a no brainer for me--why not be cooler and get a tan? Then, because I was running and thinking is what I do while I run, I realized how much I love my body. It has taken me up and down mountains, ran, biked, and swam thousands of miles and lifted hundreds of pounds.  And keeps me living. My body is truly an amazing thing.

     Then I remembered why I started running in just a sports bra. It's not because I look like a super model in it (I wish I could post you a meme here of what I wish I looked like--see Baywatch--and what I actually look like--sweaty with a lil chunk, hot mess--but I'm not tech savvy and would have no idea who to make said meme). It's because I did it to prove someone wrong. A few years ago I started seeing a guy. The first time this guy saw my stomach he said, "Huh. I thought you'd look like a personal trainer." I said, "What does that mean." "I just thought, you'd, you know, have abs," he said. The part of me that was raised by several bad-ass, independent women wanted to say, "Whoa. Who the hell do you think you are to say that to me and who do you think you are that the .001% of the female population with abs would ever hook up with you, Moobs and Muffin-top?" He totally had man boobs and a fluffy belly. A bigger part of me, told myself to be nice, you love yourself and he probably has body image issues that he's taking out on you. The Daddy Issues side of me would've made out with him anyway. It was summer. It was 100% humidity and 90 degrees. I, pissed off at being called chunky, started to run with my belly out.

     I'm not saying that I let some dude's opinion of my body dictate what I did/do. But I did choose how I let his statement affect how I see myself. Everything you experience is through your filter and yours only. You get to choose who you love and how you love about everyone around you including yourself. I hope you take any negativity and filter it back through into a fire that makes you stronger, makes your love for you better. It's not easy, but all you need to do is to choose that love. I've never posted something #wcw and I've never posted a picture of my muscles, but today I want to give a long overdue shout out to my body. I'm a hard person to deal with sometimes, but I'm going to choose to keep loving me inside and out.

My boyfriend asked me when we first started dating
what my favorite part of my body was. I said my eyebrows.
He thought that was weird. I do have killer eyebrows,
but it should be known I love my legs the most because
they take me all over the  world. 

You see tummy chunks and man shoulders. I see someone
who is strong and never says no to cake. What's life without cake?