I Love Myself Today

This morning, I found an old blog of mine (the second one I created) called "quiet heart, open mind". Naturally, I began reading through my old posts ranging from seven to 10 years back. Most of them were pretty cringe-worthy, as I was deeply invested in the cult of Bikram Yoga at that time. But, there were a few little gems tucked in there that brought tears to my eyes.

I'd found myself being so judgemental and harsh to past-Sarah for the things she'd written back then, but the post I'm sharing below, in particular, reminded me of my (true, enduring) spirit and the importance of being tender with all versions of myself. Even when things were kind of a mess, I was learning how to love myself.

​And I think that's really beautiful. 

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{I love myself, and all of my parts ~ Feb 22, 2012}

I love my arms.

I used to think they were too small. And then too fat. Also, too weak; not muscular enough. I thought I'd like to have arms like Jessica Biel, or maybe Kelly Ripa, or Madonna...and then, "Oh dear lord, not Madonna. Those arms are totally frightening."  I wondered how many bicep curls it would take to get to the point of loving them. And then when I thought I didn't have nearly enough time or energy for that, how many would it take before I'd just like them a little bit?

But now, I realize how truly magnificent they are: in the morning, they push me out of bed and pull on my clothes; they provide the strength to open the jar of peanut butter, and then spread it on my toast, which will give me energy for the first part of the day; and they hug my fluffy kitties and keep my dog close to me on her leash. In the afternoon, they enable me to write down my thoughts so they don't take up too much space in my head; they embrace my friends and family with I-love-you-and-I'm-so-lucky-to-have-you-in-my-life hugs; they enable me to clean and beautify myself, so as to not terrify said friends and family; and they hold up the book that will transport me to another reality for a short while. In yoga, they lift me up to the ceiling to remind me of my strength and courage; they stretch out like wings and allow me to fly; they keep me balanced and are always there to catch me if I fall; they help me to bend my spine and open my chest to welcome more love into my heart; and they squeeze my legs tight for a loving full-body hug.

I also love my legs.

I always thought they were too short, too fat, disproportionate, and had too much cellulite. I wanted legs like a model, or like my best friend, Ashlee: long and lean, slight and feminine, with just the right amount of muscle in all the right places. I tried running, pilates, squatting and lunging across my living while watching America's Next Top Model (which only made me hate my stubby legs more), but I was never satisfied, because even if I noticed slight improvements in the shape or tone of my legs, they were still too short, too fat, disproportionate, had too much cellulite...

But now, I give thanks to them, every single day. They get me to where I need to go, no questions asked; they allow me to run around and wrestle with my playful puppy; they gave me 10 years of soccer, which helped me to understand and appreciate myself in so many different ways; they propel me through the water, whenever I'm so inclined to swim; they provide a solid foundation to keep me grounded and uplifted, all at once. In yoga, they kick up to the ceiling, contorting my body into an elegant dancer's pose; they provide the strength to realign all the joints that had already started to give me grief, even in my first quarter-century of life; they put pressure on my abdomen to regulate my moody and sensitive digestive system; and on those really, really tough days when my lunch refuses to stay down or my bladder is about to burst, they get me the hell out of the hot room, fast.

And so it goes: I thought my butt was too big; now, I appreciate the cushioning it provides for long lectures, or lengthy commutes, and I like the way it fills out my jeans. My stomach was too flabby, not defined enough, I wished it looked like Megan Fox's; now, it seems perfectly normal and wonderfully fine, even when it's housing a food baby.

It's so easy to compare ourselves to others and covet what we don't have, and it's natural to lose sight of how incredibly fortunate we are to have fully functioning and uniquely beautiful body parts. But it's so important to remind ourselves that as long as we're putting the love and respect that we require and deserve into our bodies, we're just right, and immensely beautiful, exactly the way we are.

Give love to yourself and all of your parts, every single day.