Making Peace With … Well, My Imperfections

Ok, let’s face it.  Nobody I know is perfectly happy with every single part of their body.  We all have flaws.  Every single one of us.

I know people who do physique competitions.  Even they can have places that they wish were different.  Don’t think because to us they look perfect that they think they are.  They don’t.

But isn’t it time we make peace with those perceived flaws?  God made us in His image.  His perfect image.  Shouldn’t we be happy with what we have instead of constantly being down on ourselves about things that are just not easy to change?

This is hard.  We want to lose weight, or be fit, or whatever.  I think that’s normal.  We might not like our noses, and there is a thing called plastic surgery that is certainly a possibility for a lot of these things.  I don’t know that it’s always necessary, but if you’re that unhappy, who am I to judge!

I’ve changed my body by leaps and bounds from where I was when I was at my heaviest.  For the most part, I’m super happy with those changes!  I love how powerful my legs are.  I love that my arms are starting to show some muscles from lifting.  I love how strong and lean I look.

But, I’ve also had two babies, both born by c-section.  I was overweight both times I got pregnant and gained about 40-50 pounds each time.  Let’s just say that on my very short frame, that’s not a good look.  And it’s left me with a midsection that is quite literally the look of a deflated balloon that used to be over-inflated.

Can we say saggy stretch marks???

Yeah, that’s the part I really don’t like about myself.  Like, at all.  Gross.  Just cut it off!

Thankfully I can usually hide my tummy in my clothes anyway.  So the only people who will ever see it besides my doctor are myself and my husband.  Someday I may decide to have surgery to fix it, or I may not.

The reason I wouldn’t do it is actually more profound than I just can’t afford it (which is also true).  Those scars and flab and whatever are proof that I was a part of two living breathing miracles.  Those boys God gave me are gifts.  I love them with all my heart.  My life wouldn’t be the same without either of them.  Those scars are my tiger stripes.  I’m growing to at least admire what they stand for instead of being ashamed of them.

You are beautiful.  My best advice as I’m learning to accept my own flaws and imperfections is simply this…. do the best with what God gave you.  Honor Him with your body.  Hating your body means you hate a gift.  Hate is not beautiful.

You are beautiful.

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