Why I Eat a Bowl of Ice Cream...

Guilt free... with my family.

I cringe when I hear the word "diet"  or even a diet masked as a "life style".  I haven't been quiet about my struggle with needing to be super skinny.  But since the birth of my daughter, I have tried very very hard to NOT let my discontentment with my body be known to my kiddos.  It is a struggle that I have been working through with those people close to me to keep me focused on God.  On this journey to being content with ME and with my body.

So when I see Mommas struggling with their bodies with their children, especially little girls, in tow... I get that knot in my belly.  The knot of deep sympathy, maybe sorrow?  As daughters stand back and watch us hate our bodies, the ones that they see as beautiful because of that squishy belly?  The one that looks like a road map that has undergone a massive amount of construction? Yea, that belly...well it made you a Mom.  A Mom that they admire!  And when I complain about my hips because having children changed my body forever... I look at the sweet little face next to me and I see the hurt... because Yes! I am forever changed!  And I don't want to be a sense of pain, for any of us.  But something that we REJOICE about.

So I decided that I would change.  I decided that I would sit down and eat a bowl of ice cream with my kids and that I wouldn't pass on the dessert.  While I don't want to feast on sweets, but rather teach my children the importance of moderation.  The importance of making healthy choices.  And the importance of enjoying a little (maybe, little...maybe...bigger...) brownie.

How can I teach them this if I am buying my own food? If I am the only one eating a different way?  How is this a life style change if it is only me, and if the underlying message that my children are seeing is discontentment  The last year I have been praying that God would push me, heals dug in and all, on this journey of contentment.  To appreciate this body that He gave me.  The one that can get out of bed and walk every day.  The body that can chase my crazy toddler and hold my baby girl (not such a baby anymore...).  The body that can crochet while I listen to my boys read to me.  This body.  The one that birthed 4 babies into our family.  The one that used to run.  The one that loves to lift some weights.  Yea, that body.

Remember how I promised myself that I wouldn't step one foot on the scale once I started working out again?  Well, I kept my promise.  And when I sliced my finger open and needed to get stitches, that was the first time that I stepped on that machine that gives me a number that I USED to base my self worth on.  So I got on the scale, and while the number wasn't one that I was totally ecstatic over, it was one that I could turn away and smile from.  Why?  Because I was content with me.  Because I hadn't deprived myself from dessert with my family.  Because I enjoyed eating food without making myself feel guilty.

I left the doctor's office and sent a text messages to a woman who has come alongside me and really been a mentor to me through all this crazy stuff and told her of my triumph!  It may not seem much to you, but to me in my brain...it was huge.  Somewhere along the way I lost my focus on Christ.  I had such a strong desire to fit into a certain group that I lost my focus of being content with who God made me.  And I want that girl back.  The girl that my Momma raised me to be!