Ever since I was little, I’ve been paranoid about my image. As in, every mirror I would pass would cause me to stop and examine the way that I look. To be specific, my weight. I remember as a little girl, one of my distant family members jokingly told me that I was going to get fat eating a second hotdog. I was probably about four, but this DEVASTATED me. I remember being terrified to eat seconds because I didn’t want to “get fat.” This mentality stuck with me through most of my life. I just recently within the past couple years, started to allow myself to get seconds if I want.I also remember being in dance class with the other little ballerinas. I overheard my dance teacher comparing my weight to another child’s. She was talking about different body builds. I was shorter and a bit fuller, compared to my fellow dancer who was tall and slender. As a child, my feelings were so crushed. Then there was the time in sixth grade when someone found my fifth grade yearbook picture. I went through a “chunky” phase in  the fifth grade and everyone thought it was pretty hilarious. I however, did not.

These events changed me. They led me to believe that I was fat. That I needed to change and that I wasn’t beautiful. I ate less and less. I never really ate healthy so to speak, but just less. That was good enough for me. But no matter what the number on the scale said, I still saw myself as disgusting.

My senior year of high school, a horrible disorder unveiled its ugly head in me. I have an anxiety disorder that causes me to feel very panicky and very unsocial. We will see how it goes. Anyways, my anxiety became so great that I found it painstakingly hard to eat. I would get physically sick if I even tried. I dropped down to around 95 pounds and I looked horrible. I remember my dad, bless his heart, yelling at me to eat something. But I couldn’t. Even at this point, when I looked in the mirror, I saw that chubby fifth grader. It. Was. Torture. Pure. Torture. I finally somehow forced myself to eat and gained some of the weight back. After a few years at college, I eventually did what I was supposed to do all along. I looked to The Lord. He is helping me through my anxiety. I struggle with it daily, but now I know where to go for help. He carries me through every day and is giving me rest in Him.

I still have issues loving my body. I’m extremely sensitive about my weight. The smallest thing can send my head into a whirlwind of anxiety and torment about my body. Now after having Daisy, I have been working extremely hard to get to my goal. I’ll probably do a post on the workout system that I’m using, because it’s awesome. But those last few pounds are a pain y’all! I hated myself for weeks. I just felt gross and miserable about the baby weight. Not good. That is not how a woman should see herself after having a baby. Let me repeat that. I just had a baby. I spent nine months of my life growing a person. The Lord chose me to carry not one, but two children. I was able to nourish them on the inside for nine months, and now take care of them on the outside. It is no secret that pregnancy causes weight gain. I mean, duh! So why did I feel this way? Why do women feel the need to snap back into their skinny jeans two months after giving birth? There is so much pressure to look “modelesque” from our society. It’s maddening. It’s sickening.

So here’s what I’ve decided. I’ve decided to ask The Lord every day to help me. I ask him to let me love myself the way He created me. To remind me that I am beautiful just the way He made me. That He makes no mistakes. As long as I am taking care of the body He gave me, then why should I hate the way it is? I shouldn’t. What a diss to God. I don’t want to be like that.

Yes, I can and will continue to workout until I get to my goal weight. Not because I don’t love my body, but because I do. I know where I feel the best and I know where I need to be to be all that I can for The Lord, both mentally and physically. But praise God that He loves me. Praise God that He created me. That I am fearfully and wonderfully made. And so are you. Don’t let a magazine talk you into feeling bad about yourself. Don’t let some stupid remarks from a random person get to you. Be strong in the Lord and the power of His might. If you are a “struggler” like me, learn to lean on Him. Allow Him to open up your eyes to the beauty that He created, when He created you in His image.