But here's the thing- I'm a superficial person. I'm a vain princess. And while my look is "casual," it's still put together (on a good day). Brendan could tell you it still takes an excess of minutes for me to get ready to leave the house, even if I'm only taking the kids to day care.
And this superficiality totally extends to my body and my weight. It extends to my pants size. To how I look in a dress. I have a mental list of cosmetic procedures I would consider getting (I know, I know). I have a goal weight. I catch myself looking longingly at other women's bodies.
|I'm so vain. I probably think this selfie's about me.|
So, I put the scale away. I try not to fixate on my looks. I focus instead on how far I can run. How fast I can run. How my body feels. How much weight I can lift.
But then I start to fixate on how far I can run. How fast I can run. I beat myself up when I don't perform the way I hoped. My thoughts devolve like my wardrobe. I wonder if I've swapped one unhealthy measuring stick for another. I think maybe I'm full of myself, narcissistic, self-involved. I think maybe I'm failing myself and my girls.
I don't have the answer to all this existential navel-gazing. So, instead, I focus on my health. I hope I can kill my vain princess if I lie enough. If I love myself enough. I tell myself I don't care about the scale. I tell my body I love it. I thank it for carrying me a mile, two miles, five miles. I thank it for letting me carry my children. And I turn up my music. I keep running. And I try not to think about how my ass looks while I do it.