The following blog post is a personal introspective from my weight loss files and I try to do better by my body as well as my soul by eating healthier and exercising. Each week I will discuss my roadblocks and setbacks, triumphs and breakthroughs, and other random items as it relates to reaching my overall weight loss goal.
I like my body. I love my breasts, my hips, my thighs. I especially love my thighs. I can honestly say that they are thicker than a Snicker without any jiggle—I have the thighs of a Serena Williams without working out. I’ve always had these powerful legs, ask my dad who used to play who is strongest by putting our feet together as we lay across the floor and try to bend the other one’s legs. I always bent his and he tried like the Dickens to bend mine.
I love my legs.
What I don’t love is my stomach—if I could change anything about my body, it would be that.
But I digress. This post is not about what I don’t love. It’s about what I appreciate about myself physically.
I have lost two pounds since I began my weight loss journey three weeks ago. Two pounds is not a lot. I really haven’t been trying as much as I should. Old habits die hard I guess. And I keep looking at myself in the mirror wondering why I can’t seem to lose more. I love myself despite the fact that I want to change. Losing 25-40 lbs will probably be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. And yet, I want to do it. I want to be a healthier person on the inside and out.
But I do not want to lose these curves.
I love these curves.
I love my body.
Just wished it weighed less.
And looked better in those skinny jeans.
Even though he likes it.
And acts as if there is nothing wrong with it.
I want to do this for me and me alone.