I weigh one hundred and thirty-six pounds. My stomach is the one part of my body I’m most self-conscious of and want to hide (I could mention my upper thighs too but let’s stay focused here).
In 2020 for the first time in my life, I worked out consistently. Multiple times a week, I pushed myself until I shook. I dripped sweat and grew stronger. I also did this yesterday.
But underneath my shirt, I still have a soft pooch—a wrinkled artifact from birthing two kids and surviving double rounds of postpartum depression, anxiety and intrusive thoughts. I
I don’t want a new workout routine or meal planning suggestions. Unsolicited advice about my body, the history it carries and what it’s future could be won’t be listened to. I may very well carry this extra curve of skin into glory. And God won’t love me any less if I do.
Now before someone reads this and tells me I’m not “honoring my temple ( i.e., body) with talk like that, hear me out. I’m all for being healthy, ok? I just don’t believe the Holy Spirit is shaming me into “honoring my body” because it belongs to Him.
I believe He’s loving me into the process of partnering with my Creator to steward ALL my resources for His glory. My spiritual resources. My emotional resources. My mental resources. And yes, my physical resources.
I believe God is for honoring the whole temple I’m currently earth-bound in. This doesn’t just include the soft, dimpled places on my body.
I am more than a body.
>>>>
One night, I was putting my daughter to bed. In-between changing her from day clothes to pajamas, she ended up in front of me wearing only a diaper. Suddenly, she placed her pudgy hands on either side of her pearl-smooth tummy, squishing it together until her skin bunched together to form a hundred peach colored wrinkles.
While looking down at her temporarily transformed stomach she exclaimed: “Just wike mommy!” with a hint of accomplishment in her three year old voice.
She was proud to look like me.
>>>>
Why am I writing about this today? What does a woman who teaches writing and photography have to say about body image? A lot apparently.
I’m still learning this myself but I want fellow writers and photographer to know: it all seeps together.
The confidence I gain by “putting my work out there” bleeds over into getting the guts to publicly share what’s hiding under my shirt and not flinch.
When I make time to hone my writing and photography because I want to honor and steward the gifts God’s given me, I start making time to make healthier choices for my mind and body too.
When I pay attention to the mundane invisible-to-the-public eye moments in motherhood, I start seeing stories everywhere. I see God everywhere.
And when you see God everywhere, you’re just thankful to experience the miracle of His presence through the body you’re in.
All 136 pounds of it.