At one point my entire goal in life was to be the smallest, tonest, fittest looking version of me that I could be.
At the time this was one of the best things I could dream of being.
There is nothing that has been celebrated on me more that looking a certain way.
Not my degrees.
Not my awards.
My hard work.
Not my intelligence.
Nor my love of the nature.
Nor my passion for connection.
My heart.
It makes sense that we are obsessed with losing weight, looking perfect and put together, looking lean, tone, fit, with a big a$$ and visible abs.
This is what women are celebrated for most.
We are celebrated for coming in a neat, nice, quiet, undemanding package.
While yes, life may seem easier if we just fit the mold we were given,
How much harder will it be to not realize what we are completely capable of?
To spend our lifetime trying to lose weight, only to look back at 80 and realize all we could have created, became, inspired, loved?