Filling out.

One of the things that I think is so unfair in this world (but so right, so logical, so understandable, and so unavoidable) is the fact that when you are young, you have no idea of the blessings that you are entrenched in, and when you grow up, you spend most of your time devoted to getting those blessings back.  There are so many things that I look back on and think, "If only..."  If only I could have taken advantage of my highschool years and really studied and learned while that was all I was supposed to do.  I was a good student, didn't get into trouble (the only detention I ever had was when I was caught with my fleece vest unzipped during lunch... not really hardcore).  But like most teenagers, what I really digested was the social aspect of school.   If only I had taken advantage of every free moment in Paul and my marriage to spend quality time with him when it was just us, no distractions.  If only I had taken every moment when I just had one child to appreciate how easy it actually was (compared, of course, to two... one is hard, just not as hard...).  If only I had woken up during the night before I had kids and thought to myself, Isn't this nice that I can just close my eyes and go back to sleep.  If only I appreciated what I had.  If only, if only, if only.

If only I had developed healthy eating habits before my metabolism started crawling instead of racing.  If only I had seen my body for what it truly was instead of looking down and seeing large instead of curves. 

So right now, I'm trying to change that.  I'm attempting what I think might be the hardest thing I've ever done.  I'm trying to stop, look down, look around, and appreciate.  I'm trying to look at my body, at the muscles that have developed over the past year, the belly that still hangs over (and might for a while... two kids in 15 months kind of changes things!), the stretch marks that trace a map from the belly where I hid those children from the world, down the legs that carried them, and still do.  I see the skin that never quite tans, with scars all over telling a story of my life, particularly the downs, but a few ups as well.  I see the teeth that aren't quite straight, but that form the smile that my children see and imitate (almost) every day.  I see a nose that took a hit with a softball, and has a flat bit to prove it.

I see this all, and I think, this is me.  This is the body that has carried me through 27 years of my life.  And I love it.  And now, I'm finally giving back.  I'm doing my best to nourish it, to feed it food that will make it stronger, not slow it down.  I'm stretching it and pulling it and testing it, making it stronger, more able to deal with the valleys, so it can climb more quickly to the top.  I'm pushing it, forcing it to run and run and run, so it can outrun the clouds when they inevitably come.    And it feels, so, good.


Now, when I look back at the last few years, I appreciate the times I had, but I look forward to a future that has more of a... well... future.  I feel like I am finally accepting this great gift of a machine of a body, one that has very predictable outcomes when it comes to making it strong.  I feel like I am finally filling out my skin, taking over every cell, saying this is me, this is me, this is mine.  Using it, loving it, working it.  I no longer reside just in my head, just in the reaction.  I've taken over the action, I've taken over my life.

Who knew it could feel so good to actually live your life?