Note to my younger self

In my twenties, I struggled a lot with body image. Actually, that doesn't even begin to describe my hatred for my outward appearance. It started in middle school. This was when we were given options for lunch, like the pizza line, hamburger line, or salad line. I mostly avoided all at all costs. I was more interested in what to wear, how to wear it and who would notice in the bleachers after lunch. I hardly ever ate breakfast and I rarely ate lunch. It wasn't because I thought I was fat though. It was because the cool kids saved their lunch money for after school to walk down to Arby's for curly fries and cheddar.

I've always had an athletic build and started puberty a lot later than most, so I was always a tad on the underdeveloped side if you catch my drift. It wasn't until late in my freshmen year of high school, that I started having the dreaded monthly cycle. That year, I broke the 100 mark on the scale. This put a red flag in my mind. I began to skip more meals, thinking that I needed to dip back below 100 pounds. Mind you, I wasn't even wearing junior size clothing. I was still in the kids' sizes!!

In high school, I was a bit of a mix. I was pretty shy, sort of a smart ass, and was completely afraid of boys. However, I had my first serious boyfriend my senior year in high school. I had taken up running that year and it was noticed by many. Everyone thought I looked great. I was a lifeguard at the local pool, tan, blond and feeling good. Little did they know, I wasn't eating. The minute the boyfriend and I broke up, I hit a very dangerous phase of my life.

My freshmen year of college, I started binging and purging and taking laxatives. This went on throughout my college years in fact. I just wanted people to like me, so I thought being perfect-looking would help the situation. I joined a sorority my junior year and was even elected President the next year. I made decent grades, held down a job and still made time to exercise. On nights we went out, I starved myself the whole day because I thought my outfit would look better on me that night if I did. I would drink until I threw up.... a lot. I didn't go out much though, because sometimes, I was too fat to go out with my friends (in my mind.)

Now, I think about all those things daily. It's not because I want to revert to that but it's to question my motives. Why did I put myself through that? What possibly led me to believe that being scary thin was acceptable? I'll tell you why. Every magazine cover, every reality TV show, every billboard in our society is laden with "perfection." Whether it's Adriana Lima's lips....

Jamie Eason's boobs.....

JLo's butt....

or Heidi Klum's legs...

We are forced to look at these airbrushed goddesses on a daily basis and we are made to think this is what we're supposed to look like.

Tell you what. I actually don't want to look like any of them. I am finally satisfied with my appearance. I like my thin heart-shaped lips. I prefer my smaller, "perky" bum. And even though I was teased as a kid about my big calves, I dare those boys to walk next to me in shorts now!! I also embrace my post-breastfeeding banana boobs that barely fill out a B cup.

I am actually more fit now, I eat more and I'm happier than I've ever been in my whole life. 

What matters most to me though, is that I am healthy inside and out. I don't ever want my daughter to hear me say I'm fat, ugly, or too flat-chested. I want her to know that she was molded and perfected by God. It is true. Our bodies are a temple. We only get one, so take care of it while you have it. Does this mean I will stop using anti-wrinkle cream on my face? Oh heck no! I am trying to preserve what the good Lord gave me. :)