If you're coming over here from JumpingJE - cool, you're ahead of the curve.
If you're here just because you love the wisdom I muster up on Tuesdays, read below:
The real tragedy was that I skimmed the first few sentences and went to the bottom where I could enter my comment and was going to say something like "Lady, you're going to look amazing in your wedding dress!".
I don't know what stopped me from hitting the "post comment" button but I'm glad I did - because I would have missed out on a beautifully vulnerable girl sharing her beautifully vulnerable story.
If you're here just because you love the wisdom I muster up on Tuesdays, read below:
I know that there's something wrong with my priorities when yesterday (on a day off from work) I almost skimmed over a beautiful piece of writing because at first glance it looked "too long".
"Too long" because it only had one photo and no gifs. "Too long" because it wasn't a list and it wasn't the usual shit-show I like to entertain myself with in this carefree blog world. "Too long" because it wasn't a weekend recap.
The real tragedy was that I skimmed the first few sentences and went to the bottom where I could enter my comment and was going to say something like "Lady, you're going to look amazing in your wedding dress!".
I don't know what stopped me from hitting the "post comment" button but I'm glad I did - because I would have missed out on a beautifully vulnerable girl sharing her beautifully vulnerable story.
So, if you have a few minutes to spare today - first read what I read yesterday - then you're allowed to continue on.
The inspiration for my words, like Caitlin's, comes from trying on a piece of clothing.
A bathing suit.
Not only did I try on a bathing suitthat I bought in high school this weekend, I did something terrifying...
I posted the photo of myself in said bathing suit to the i n t e r n e t.
...gulp...
It was "show your progress" day in a private fitness group I run on Facebook and time to show my results over the past three weeks. When I took the "after" photo and placed it side by side with the "before" photo, I saw the results. The results I was proud of. The results that told me I'm on the right path. The results I can feel when I put my pants on and that I can feel in my newfound energy. (Not results that a scale would have told me, by the way.)
But those results still didn't feel "good enough".
My insecurities immediately looked past the girl who had a more defined waist and looked straight to the girl who still felt like her hips were too big. The girl who has strong and beautiful arms could only see thetasteful side-boob which she perceived as the dreaded spill-over. The girl who gets complimented on her legs/quads could only see the "knee fat" that is obviously impossible to spot reduce.
The negative voice in my head crippled me.
The thought of posting the photo (to a private group) made me feel like a failure.
A failure because I looked better than I did three weeks ago? A failure because I'm not where I want to be yet? A failure because I let my mind interrupt the happy feels I should have been experiencing?
What crippled me further was the thought of what I would do when I actually have to wear this bathing suit out in public - this bathing suit that proved I haven't gone bikini shopping since high school. This proof that made me realize that high school is the last time I was in a pool in a bikini rather than wearing a sports bra / running shorts combo because I "forgot to pack my suit" or "didn't want to get my hair wet".
What bothered me most was that the insecurity I felt was outweighing the pride I was supposed to be feeling.
The pride I had earned.
So like the brave woman I aspire to be, I put it out there. I let myself be vulnerable. I took a risk.
And I still live today to tell the tale.
I'm adult enough to know that this isn't the last of my insecurities - but I can bet they'll be losing more battles than they win.
The inspiration for my words, like Caitlin's, comes from trying on a piece of clothing.
A bathing suit.
Not only did I try on a bathing suit
I posted the photo of myself in said bathing suit to the i n t e r n e t.
...gulp...
It was "show your progress" day in a private fitness group I run on Facebook and time to show my results over the past three weeks. When I took the "after" photo and placed it side by side with the "before" photo, I saw the results. The results I was proud of. The results that told me I'm on the right path. The results I can feel when I put my pants on and that I can feel in my newfound energy. (Not results that a scale would have told me, by the way.)
But those results still didn't feel "good enough".
My insecurities immediately looked past the girl who had a more defined waist and looked straight to the girl who still felt like her hips were too big. The girl who has strong and beautiful arms could only see the
The negative voice in my head crippled me.
The thought of posting the photo (to a private group) made me feel like a failure.
A failure because I looked better than I did three weeks ago? A failure because I'm not where I want to be yet? A failure because I let my mind interrupt the happy feels I should have been experiencing?
What crippled me further was the thought of what I would do when I actually have to wear this bathing suit out in public - this bathing suit that proved I haven't gone bikini shopping since high school. This proof that made me realize that high school is the last time I was in a pool in a bikini rather than wearing a sports bra / running shorts combo because I "forgot to pack my suit" or "didn't want to get my hair wet".
What bothered me most was that the insecurity I felt was outweighing the pride I was supposed to be feeling.
The pride I had earned.
So like the brave woman I aspire to be, I put it out there. I let myself be vulnerable. I took a risk.
And I still live today to tell the tale.
I'm adult enough to know that this isn't the last of my insecurities - but I can bet they'll be losing more battles than they win.
