I was innocently surfing along on Facebook this morning when I landed on this little beauty posted by my cousin (once-removed), Lindsay:
Tears immediately sprung to my eyes, but not because I was really feeling nostalgic about my pregnancies - even though we just celebrated 3 years since Rayya's birth, but I'll get into that another time. No, it was because this photo and quote was an answer to something I've been praying about.
I've been asking God to show me why I think so differently about my body than almost everyone else that I know. I've been asking Him if I'm wrong for what I've been thinking about it, and I'd been asking Him to show me if I'm doing the right thing. And then, there was my answer.
This is still bringing tears to my eyes - they are stinging with the beautiful truth that this is to me. I actually like my body. I like it, and I wear pants with double-digits. I like it, and I have a muffin top. I like it, and I wear a one-piece partially because my belly should no longer be seen by the public. I like it, and I put on Spanx sometimes. I like it, and I don't do a whole lot to change it - just maintain it.
I've been feeling guilt for not jumping on the bootcamp bandwagon. I've been feeling guilty for openly enjoying sweets and treats, and not really worrying about the little bit of weight gain or loss I may experience from that. I've been feeling down on myself for what I thought was laziness, and a lack of motivation to "beautify" my outside. I don't want to be obese, overweight, or unhealthy - but I'm not big on making huge changes to my "less-than-ideal-society-decided" body. I feel freedom to eat what I like, exercise as much as I choose, and buy clothing in what ever number, letter or size looks right. And I finally figured out why.
I asked to have this body. I PRAYED to have this body!
I am PROUD of my body because I wanted it to look like this! I want the evidence of 5 pregnancies and 2 precious babies! I'm not in a rush to crunch my abs into a six pack. I'm not in a rush to carve lines of rippling muscles into my soft mommy arms. I'm not in a rush to tone up my tush while it spends hours on hard floors playing puzzles, and picking up Lego pieces. I'm not in a rush, because I BEGGED God for these scars and I got them. I love them, and I love this body. It's a healthy body. Functional. It doesn't turn other men's heads in my direction, but it turns my husband's head - and that is all I need anyway. I like my body and I actually don't really have a desire to change it, because I want it like this.
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| My belly as it looks today. |
"A scar simply means you were stronger than whatever tried to hurt you".
The enemy tried to hurt me by taking away babies that I loved, and longed to hold. But I didn't stop, and I kept on trodding in faith. My postpartum scars not only remind me of my miracle babies, but they remind me of the lowest, hardest walk I had in my faith - and how God pulled me through. He never let me go. So I hang on to this body with the utmost respect and great love for what it symbolizes, what it represents.
My guess is that Jesus isn't going to get rid of His scars, hide them and hate them. He loves His scars for what they mean to Him, and to us. That's why I'm going to love mine.
NOTE: Just to be sure I'm not taken wrong, I am not saying whatsoever that anyone should ignore exercise, eat unhealthy, and live an unhealthy lifestyle. I try to get daily exercise, eat healthy meals, and live well. I just don't want those things to get in the way of a healthy focus on my body, and a good use of my time. So just to be sure - I am not saying that there is a single thing wrong with exercising (bootcamp in particular! I love doing them online!) and all that stuff, I'm just saying that for me and in this stage of my life, they are not the things I want to pursue the most.
