Toughness is in the Soul

I’ve always been a big girl. One of my earliest memories of elementary school was sitting on a swing and the boy next to me calling me fat. It would be easy to blame it on something like bad habits and a sedentary lifestyle, but my mother was one of the healthiest cooks I’ve ever met. We had home-cooked meals, homemade lunches, desserts only appeared on special occasions and any request for a snack was met with fruit or vegetables. My parents had us work hard and play hard: we maintained a garden as a family, spent our summer vacations hiking through the gorgeous Utah mountains and were encouraged to participate in as many sports as we could fit into our schedules. I did ballet, gymnastics, basketball, track, cross country . . . always healthy, just not skinny.

My "before" shot on my mission, at my peak weight.

Things got drastically worse on my mission. In a culture where vegetables rarely appear, carbs are the norm, and everything has a healthy dose of oil and mayonnaise, my diet went out the window. Add in the stress of being a missionary, and my weight got out of control. I came home determined to change. I had never been able to lose weight easily, but I had some extremely good help along the way, and I worked hard to lose 60 pounds.

Not your typical "after" shot, but you get the idea. And he's cute.

I wanted to start my blog this way because I want everyone to understand how much it means to me to be healthy. I know how hard it is to lose weight. I know what it’s like to feel unhealthy. I know what that struggle can feel like, and I know the amazing feeling of accomplishment when you finally hit that illusive weight goal.

But something in our culture is wrong. Because “fat-shaming” is a word that we all recognize. Because Jennifer Lawrence stands out in Hollywood as one of the only actresses proud of the way she looks right now. Because we can pay to have our children’s school photos airbrushed. Because women are pushing other women to look and act a certain way, just to try to achieve something that’s shoved in our faces every time we check out at the grocery store.

I went into the gym several months ago for a free training session. I like to try new things, and it seemed a waste to not at least give it a shot. As I sat down with the trainer, he had me fill out a sheet with my height and weight, and then asked me what my “fitness goals” were. I explained that I had just run a half marathon and was training for a triathlon, so I was pretty happy as I was but that I wanted to just increase speed and endurance and do better at cross training. He then proceeded to try to shame me into purchasing training sessions, explaining that I was obese according to his wall chart. I stared at him, dumbfounded, and explained that I was spending 1-2 hours every day training, that I felt fantastic and was happy with how I looked. He insisted that until I fit within the dimensions of his chart, I was obese, unhealthy and could never improve my way of life. I powered through the next 45 minute training session solely on anger. I wanted to scream at him, “My roommate called me “one of those crazy running people” two days ago! I’ve worked so hard and come so far! I’m happy and I feel good; why isn’t that enough???”

My most recent triathlon, where I blew my PR out of the water. Pun intended.

Don’t get me wrong – I could do a lot better. I love food. I love unhealthy food. A guy I was dating once said, “I think you appreciate food more than most people do.” While editing my online dating profile, one of my sisters told me I might want to remove a few of the references to food, since it kind of looked like I’m obsessed. One of my favorite parts of racing is the carb loading the night before, and the fact that the day after a race, I feel justified in eating whatever I want. I could eat a few less pizzas each year. I could avoid desserts more frequently. I could cook more and eat out less. 

But here’s the thing: that’s MY decision. That’s MY choice. That is between me and my body and my soul. And we’ll handle things on our own.

Sometimes, the goal of a picture is to make yourself look as ugly as possible.

Let's also mention that my value in life is not what's on the scale. I work hard, I play hard. I've made amazing friends, I've traveled all over the world, I've started and ended many relationships, I've made good choices and stupid choices, I've learned, I've grown, I've changed. Can we focus on the other stuff in our lives besides how much weight we put on over our cruise? "To be heroic is to be courageous enough to die for something; to be inspirational is to be crazy enough to live a little."

Best friends, on a trip to South Africa.

 There was a lot of buzz going around about a young mother who posted a shot of her gorgeous body with her three small children with the question, “What’s Your Excuse?” Again, please don’t misunderstand. If that’s what makes her feel good – fantastic! Good for her! I’m amazed by her will power and dedication and I’m glad that makes her happy! But I take issue with her trying to guilt others. Why, why, why do we do this to each other? Yes, obesity is a problem. Yes, we need to find ways to fix it as a society. But heralding physical perfection as the only option is not the solution.

I don’t know the solution honestly. I’ve found mine: I just listen to my body and my heart and act accordingly. Sometimes my heart really, really wants a burger and fries and I listen. Sometimes my body craves a 12 mile run, and I’m happy to oblige. Sometimes they both want a huge dark green veggie salad with light Italian dressing and we all win.

Can’t we all just take a step back and stop judging? Let’s just worry about our own happiness, and trying to make the world around us a little bit better. Taryn Brumfitt says on her blog, “Health is not dictated by your looks. Health is physical, emotion and spiritual and so much more that is not visible and not always obvious to others.” (I LOVE her stuff – see her blog here: http://bodyimagemovement.com.au/)

Kumbaya!!