Last summer, on one of those my-life-will-never-be-the-same-after-this trips to Italy’s Amalfi Coast, I took a BIG ole risk and unbuttoned the way-too-tight-and-giving-me-a-muffin-top pair of jeans I had my soul squeezed into, and I put on the most comfortable pair of yoga pants ever. I had been trying to squeeze my booty into a pair of jeans that simply didn’t fit my soul, and when I finally set it free, I realized that those jeans had never been meant for me to begin with. They just simply weren’t my jeans! I had always needed the stretchy yoga pants that could move and grow with my ever-changing soul, and I didn’t even know it.
Guilt is a driving force. I feel it almost every day. Guilt for not liking it. Guilt for feeling all of this in the first place and talking about it.
What I wish someone had told me seems so simple: I am not my brother, I am not my mom, and I am not my daughter. But what I model will shape my daughter. I want to model self-sufficiency and totally falling in love with your own inner being so that one day she can light that fire for herself.
You are not (NOT, NOT, NOT) responsible for the thoughts a man chooses to think about your body. You can feel proud of your curves and still be a good person. It is absolutely ok to embrace your sexiness AND love God at the same time. You can love your body as it is and still set goals. You can love your body as it is and still want better for it. You are imperfect but perfectly imperfect. It is ok to love your body, Molly, and it is ok to allow others to love it, too.
When do we get to the point where we are comfortable enough in our own skin to just talk about normal things like they are rather than hiding them? I’m cool with telling you about my chin hair if you are cool with telling your little ones that they’re still just as beautiful with a rouge chin hair as they are without.