This is not the body of a fit person. This is not even the body of a healthy person.
I know I am in the correct BMI range but my body is like a hoarder’s house – looks pretty normal on the outside but it is completely dysfunctional on the inside.
To start with I have a sugar addiction. Yep, I can’t deny it anymore. I grew up with a dental nurse mother and felt like when I rang her to tell her I had a few fillings that needed to be fixed there was a part of me that wished that I was ringing to say I needed bail money instead. I was taught from a young age about dental care and I am a bloody great teeth brusher if I don’t say so myself (brush your teeth in circular motions people!)
But it is undeniable that my teeth were damaged by the sugar I eat. I do not take proper care of myself and I am lucky to have breakfast once a week. I am doing well if I have two meals in a day! So I find myself every now and then having a hit of sugar to burst my energy levels to just keep up.
I am super busy chasing three kids around and I have a very fidgety and easily distracted personality so many times I don’t even realise when I miss a meal. Sometimes, I even wish I could have a coffee addiction like it seems everyone on Instagram has, as I love coffee too! Yet, I find that I boil the kettle 15 times a day and never get around to making one for myself. If I do make one it nearly always goes cold before I drink it.
So I became great friends with sugar and we have been going strong and steady now for about two years. Sarah Wilson, who wrote “I Quit Sugar” was our arch nemesis and the total fun police in our world. You could say we were codependent really. I needed sugar to get me through the day and sugar needed me to have fun screwing my teeth over. And although I am definitely not going to end my friendship with sugar, I need to start seeing other foods.
My father once told me that when he was a child he never saw his mother eat. She was always fussing over her children and encouraging the younger children to eat up (she had eight children!). Dad said that because he never saw his mother eat he assumed all mothers didn’t eat and did not eat properly himself. Well, look at history repeating itself!
My children are notoriously bad eaters. Their eating is what causes me the greatest stress out of parenting. I beg them, bribe them and every now and then I threaten them so they will eat. Yet, my children very rarely would see me eat. I eat my dinner when they go to bed. Some nights I am so knackered I just fall asleep without dinner. I know, that is a sh*t-house excuse and as someone who has had multiple friends go through rehab for anorexia, this I’m sure is disturbing for them to read. I want to reassure you though that I love food. If I won the lottery the first thing I would be doing is getting myself a live in chef. I acknowledge though that I am not leading by example. I need to eat nutritious meals in with my children. For my benefit and also for theirs.
Along with the fact I am a pretty poor eater, I also do not schedule any exercise. I have been to a gym twice in my life. And one of those times I went with my fitness freak friend who I sat next to as she ran on her treadmill while I sipped my drink bottle and talked to her (my mouth is about the only part of me that gets exercise.) I don’t drive so I walk everywhere pushing my children around so I know that I do a little bit of exercise there but I would never be out of breath (unless I was running for a train.) This too needs to change.
Oh and should I mention that in the rare occasion I go out and have a drink that I often light up a cigarette? (Cr*p, I hope this doesn’t affect our life insurance policy!) I smoked for a few years around the age of 20 but quit cold turkey and it wasn’t until after my twins were a bit older and I was able to go out that I would sip a drink and immediately be magnetised to the smoking room and trying to be best mates with whoever had a pack. Yep, I’m shameless.
But just like the hoarder’s house, it isn’t until the roof starts rusting, front door comes off its hinges and the grass is over grown that anyone realises it is time to do something. And that is where I am at. My body is on the outside reflecting what I am doing to it on the inside.
I am not entirely happy in my body. Am even I allowed to say that? With all the “love the body you are in” that is preached nowadays is it okay for me to say, “Nup. That is it. I need to change?”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from miserable! I have legs that can walk, a uterus that can grow a few babies, a face that can smile. I can orgasm, and I can type, talk, and attempt to sing with my body. My body functions pretty well.
With all that said, don’t mistake me for uploading a photo of myself in a crop top and leggings as confident and happy within my body.
Because, I’m not.
I need more energy for my children. I wish I was joking when I say “stop making me laugh or I will wet myself” because sometimes I actually do. I wish I had more muscle tone for completely vain reasons. I wish my eyesight wasn’t so sh*t. I wish I was more flexible. I wish I didn’t have painful and heavy periods. I wish my body wasn’t riddled with eczema. I have tried to “love my lines” but I just tolerate them and I certainly can’t say it is love. I have absolutely no bum whatsoever and in an era where everyone is loving big booties, I am left looking like the girl that literally "LMAO". And although some of these issues I have with myself I will just have to learn to accept, others are changeable.
And do you know what else? I just want to live longer. I want to see my great grandchildren and I know if I live the way I am at the moment that probably won’t happen. And I look at my children and shudder to think of them treating their bodies the way I do.
So this is it. This is the turning point. I am off to improve my health.
Are you happy with your body?
This post originally appeared on Uncanny Annie.