Love Your Selfie

This week, my friend Cathy posted a beautiful picture of Marilyn Monroe that got me thinking about body image. That picture, along with the Today Show’s theme this week- #LoveYourSelfie prompted me to write this post.

When I was a little girl, I used to stand shirtless in front of the mirror and check myself out. Don’t laugh, you know you used to do it too, and hey you still might. I had the coolest feature that was unique only to me. The veins in my chest formed an awesome looking bald eagle. I remember staring at myself, grinning, flexing and simply loving my selfie that I saw in the mirror. Plain and simple-I rocked!

As I grew up (and out), looking in the mirror turned into scrutinizing my every feature. We didn’t even have the Internet back in the day, but we had magazines and of course TV. Everywhere I looked, there was someone thinner, prettier, taller [fill in your own adjective here] than me. I fretted about everything from my freckles to my figure, and soon, I became my own worst enemy.   I began to view myself through the lens of a society that created an illusion of perfection; much like those fun house mirrors that distort your features.

Raising my young adult daughter and teenage son in our currently appearance obsessed culture combined with the explosion of social media has proved to be an ongoing challenge. What’s a Mom to do? We want our kids to be confident yet humble. Healthy yet not focused on their weight. We want them to be kind and compassionate toward others as we tune into the latest reality shows that value rapid weight loss, nip-tucks, wife-swapping and smack talking that are so far from reality it’s mind-blowing. How can we expect our kids to not feel the need to measure up if that’s the crap that we’re measuring ourselves by?

I’m guilty as charged. I’ve watched every single season of the Biggest Loser, knowing that their pace of weight loss is not healthy and sustainable. I used to love the show Extreme Makeover even though they performed such radical cosmetic surgeries that the participants didn’t even come close to resembling their old selves. On occasion I ponder what it would be like to do a lighter version of Extreme Makeover- some hair extensions, tanning, teeth whitening, a little body sculpting and then I wonder- what the heck am I thinking? If I did all of that, I wouldn’t be me. I’d be Tara trying to be someone else.

It has taken me years to accept the fact that when God made me, he knew what he was doing. He had a plan, and the plan was me, just as I am. With my short torso and legs, I’m not likely to be that leggy model on the Chico’s so slimming jeans commercial. Side rant- Chico’s I stopped shopping at your store when you started airing those ridiculous commercials. Those women don't need slimming jeans. OK- side rant over.

I’m 5’3” with a not-so-petite frame.  I have broad-ish shoulders. I used to fret about my freckles, now I love them. They make me look younger and hey, they cover my age spots. I always wanted to be the teen that shopped at the 5-7-9 store. Remember that store? Well, I kind of skipped right over those sizes. Now days, instead of focusing on a size, I focus on my health and how I feel. And do you know what? I feel great! 

I feel strong and energized. I feel blessed to be alive and healthy.

In part, being a parent has helped me to change my lens. As a parent, we want our kids to see their own truth. We want them to see themselves like we do. We want them to love themselves as much as we do and we love them so much, it hurts. That got me started on this mantra a few years back- I will honor God with my body. If God my creator, my heavenly Father, thinks that I am lovely just the way I am- who am I to argue? Instead I will give thanks for who I am, just the way I am. 

Even on the days when I’m tempted to use a filter, I will love my selfie, honoring God by believing that He created me to be--- me. 

Make the choice. Commit to the choice. Ask for help. Continue with courage.

Hugs and friendship,

Tara

Olympic-sized Heart

In my previous post I wrote that I truly treasure being able to move more, and for the most part, I do. Yet there are weeks when:

·         I’m not quite sure when I will find the time to exercise.

·         I’m exhausted or not well.

·         I just don’t feel like it.

Last week was one of those weeks. I was sick for 3 out of 7 days and when I wasn’t sick we were over-scheduled with activities or I worked long days (10+ hours). So what’s a girl to do? How do I find my get up and go that seems to have gotten up and went?

I’ve heard some people say that “no-one can motivate you but you”, what do you think of that statement? While I do feel that drive comes from within, I also believe that we draw inspiration from all around us.

My first inspiration came when watching Alex Bilodeau, the Olympic gold medalist mogul skier, credit his win to his brother Frederic who has cerebral palsy. It was so beautiful to watch him grab his brother from the crowd and share his winning moment with him. After he won the gold, he talked about how lucky he was that he had the chance and the ability to go after his dreams. I love it when he says that his brother Frederic has the heart of an athlete.  In the video I posted below, Alex goes on to say “when I just complain it’s raining outside and I don’t want to go train. I’m just like what if I didn’t have that chance go train today? I have that chance and I will go.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQgSNl84KAU

Alex’s words reminded me of my gift of good health, and how important it is to live each day with the knowledge of what it means to feel well, to do well, to be well.

After I saw their story, I wrote this reminder on my exercise board.

As long as I can- I will!

It’s there to remind me that I have the physical ability to move- to strengthen and nurture my body- to take care of my heart, lungs, brain. I have the ability to lift and stretch, to jump and run, to dance and leap. It’s my responsibility to take the best care of me. Response-ability. To be responsible means to be accountable for something within one’s power. I am responsible for my choices. If I want to be well, I can be.

My second inspiration came from a gentleman in a wheelchair at the YMCA. As I was watching my son’s basketball game, there was a gentleman in a wheelchair rounding the track for his exercise. He pumped his arms on that wheelchair for the entire time we were there. I thought about what it must have taken just for him to get to the Y. Navigating in and out of his home and his vehicle, or relying on a ride. Then making his way into the gym when we have 12+ inches on the ground and it’s hard enough to walk around on let alone to maneuver a wheelchair. I admire him having the courage to wheel around the track under the potentially judgmental eyes of others.

I watched several interviews with Alex and Frederic Bilodeau and it was interesting to hear both brothers use the word determination.

It reminds me that you don’t need to win a medal to have an Olympic-sized heart.

As long as I can- I will! Will you?

Make the choice. Commit to the choice. Ask for help. Continue with courage.

Hugs and friendship,

Tara

Moving More

For most of my young life, the word exercise made me break out into hives and a nervous twitch. It started when my Pop-Pop decided it would be a brilliant idea to enroll an overweight kids in YMCA gymnastics. During the first class we did basic tumbling, forward and backward rolls. Needless to say, I had so many rolls that I couldn’t roll myself backwards. I was like a weeble-wobble, remember those? After a tearful ride home, my gymnastics career came to an abrupt end. Shortly thereafter, we (and by “we” I mean “me” while Pop-Pop read the funny pages) joined YMCA karate. I’m sure you can guess how long that lasted. As long as it took me to try and stuff myself into the uniform and tie the belt.

Let us move on to elementary school and the gosh-darned Presidential Fitness tests.  Talk about humiliating. From never being able to run the full mile and always the last one to finish walking, to being unable to lift myself up to do the sit-ups. Or even better when the gym teacher threw me some mercy and let me do my pull-ups while standing on a chair. I’m sure glad I didn’t call attention to myself, good times…good times.  

The only thing more humiliating than the Presidential Fitness tests was the fact that by the time I started middle school I was too chunky for the required school uniform. They only went up to a size large which I barely squeezed into. I’ll never forget how it felt to be one of the biggest girls in the locker room, embarrassed to change in front of everyone, not to mention shower. More times than I can count I was “sick” during gym class. The nurse knew me on a first name basis.

In high school and my early college years, I dropped the weight. Not due to a new found love of exercise, but more thanks to some unhealthy eating habits.

After my first pregnancy which I thought was a license to eat, and some challenging personal times, the weight started to pile back on. I knew I needed to do something about it, so I joined the local YMCA. Yet my childhood fears took over. I felt like the biggest one in the room, like everyone was staring at me and I retreated back to the safety of my home and drowned my sorrows in a box of Entennman’s donuts.

I wish now, that I could have given that twenty-something girl the courage to keep on keepin’ on. To not give a lick what anybody thought. To hold her head high and take it one day at a time knowing that little by little she was taking back her health. To not be overwhelmed by the amount of weight she had to lose. To remember that she did not gain the weight overnight and that it would not magically disappear overnight.

I wish I could have helped her to see that exercise would someday be a cure for her many ailments- depression, anxiety, winter blues, the inability to sleep, exhaustion, anger, stress. To see that exercise was so much more than an activity that she “had to do” but would someday be an activity that she wanted to do, something that she looked forward to.

My husband and I call those the dark days or “the old Tara” and I can honestly say that “the old Tara” would have never predicted who the new Tara could be. “The old Tara”, she had no hope. She was mired with such a sense of trouble and loss, combined with zero self-esteem and direction.  Yet somewhere inside “the old Tara”, the new one was just waiting for the chance to make a change.

Today, exercise is an extremely integral part of my day, not because I have to exercise, because I want to. I NEED to. I’ve gone from the tired self-conscious girl in the gym, to a woman who enjoys being physically fit (not thin) fit.  To a woman that knows the difference and understands that being strong and well is far more important than being a size two.

When I first started exercising I got winded just walking to the first stop sign in my neighborhood. Today, in my forties, my goal is to exercise six days a week, with one day of rest.  I alternate cardio (Zumba, kickboxing, walking, elliptical) with strength training (kettle bell or free weights).

I have a simple goal on my cork board, to move my body more, and most days, I love it! Being able to move my body more is a gift I appreciate and do my best to treasure.

One of my co-workers has this saying- “start somewhere, go anywhere”.

Whether you’re ready to take that first step on your way to wellness; or you’re looking to crank up your fitness routine, the most daunting step can just be getting started.

What are you waiting for? It's time to move more! 

Make the choice. Commit to the choice. Ask for help. Continue with courage.

Hugs and friendship,

Tara