This is when I feel my most beautiful
I used to feel my most beautiful when I was losing weight.
When I didn’t have to unbutton or unzip my jeans to go to the bathroom. When I drank a gallon of water a day. When I never went out because I was exhausted by dark.
I felt my most beautiful when the scale was in the double digits.
When people told me how great I looked in the beginning, and then whispered about me with concerned glances in the end.
When I ate only vegetables and had a hard time finding underwear small enough.
I felt my most beautiful when I could check every single task off the list, when I followed all of my rules.
Weighed and measured every bite of my food…check
Went on the elliptical for exactly one hour every single day…check
Rode my bike everywhere, despite rain and cold…check
I felt my most beautiful when I was too totally worked to be loud, or bossy, or assertive.
I felt my most beautiful when I was disappearing.
I feel sad for that person that felt most beautiful when she existed less.
Not because there is a damn thing wrong with being small, but because emphatically
and I never will be. Not naturally, anyway.
Things are different now.
I get to feel my most beautiful at both the bottom and the top of a heavy deadlift.
When sweat drips down the muscles of my back.
When I run and look down and see the muscles in my legs bulging.
When I notice that my thighs are big, and I know that I worked for that.
I worked to grow.
I worked to regularly PR my lifts.
To smash not only what I thought I could do, but also what I thought I could be.
When I go to the gym, I complete my workout, I eat my healthy food, and that is tiny fraction of who I am and what I do.
I feel my most beautiful when my clients tell me how they conquered their fears.
When I wake knowing I have shit to do, and that shit is much more meaningful than how I look.