I hate my stomach. I look at it and wrinkle my nose like an automatic reaction. I pull my stomach in when standing, I dress to hide it then I get angry at myself and dress to not hide it. Basically, the message I am trying to convey is that I fucking hate my stomach.
I wouldn’t change my stomach because of so many reasons. First and foremost I am ultimately happy. I eat what the fuck I like, I drink what the fuck I like. I move as much as I can for someone who has a full time job, tries to keep up with a blog and has a disability which limits how much exercise I can do without fucking my life over for 5 days after. I am happy. I mean sure I could stop eating shit, I could stop drinking wine & I could move more realistically without suffering too much but I wouldn’t be as happy.
I don’t want to feel like a bone. It is completely down to personal choice but I want to be comforting to cuddle. I want to be able to pick up my baby sisters and embrace them, make them feel loved and I want to be squishy. I want to be squishy for my future children, my boyfriend and any one who I decide to embrace, comfort and love.
My final important thing is that my boyfriend loves my body. I am 10 stone 11 and my boyfriend thinks I am goddess, I am bloody proud of that. He loves me for who I am and because of that, I don’t need to feel fat, ugly or imperfect. I do, every single day but instead of working on my weight I am working on loving my body like I should because it carried my mind to where I want it to every single day and that is the most important thing.
Please love your bodies like I am learning to love mine. It takes time but body image isn’t everything, your happiness is.
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Come see what I get up to when I’m not writing all of my ramblings for you all (spoiler alert: it involves lots of food, wine and television but hey, I like to think I’m a little bit interesting)