Positive Thinking

It was supposed to be the perfect plan. Sign up for a 5-mile race to be run the week before we leave for our Florida vacation, train for it, and be in fabulous shape when it's time to don all those shorts and tank tops. It shouldn't have been hard - I've been slogging away at the jogging over this past winter, if not regularly, at least sporadically. By late May, I should be able to run 5 miles in my sleep, right?

Well.

I kept thinking I had plenty of time, until eventually I didn't.

I had other things to do, like baking and frosting cakes.

Could I have licked my fingers less? Probably.

Could I have run a little more? Definitely.

Luckily (I think), my vacation will be spent with many, many little kids in search of a human-sized mouse, and I don't really need to impress anyone with my bathing-suited figure. But I WOULD like to do a decent job during this race. And I WOULD like to resume feeling satisfied with my, erm, physical status. Not weight or appearance, really... except yes, that's what I mean. How I look, AND how I feel. I don't want to backpedal in how far I've come in the past two years. I want firmness in my limbs. I want to go for a run and not feel obliterated. I want to maintain my weight loss so far, and get a little bit farther.

Will I be satisfied, when I get a little bit farther?

When my kids squeeze my various body parts (which they ALWAYS do, no matter how many boundaries I try to set), I make a conscious effort not to recoil. I stand my ground, I smile, I make sure they know that while yes, this touching may be inappropriate (butts are not for touching, kid. No matter how much I want to pat yours), I am OKAY with everything they are feeling. Those lumps and soft parts and jiggly bits? Totally normal. I do that now, and I did that when I was 25 pounds heavier. I want my kids to think (to know) that there is no one body type that is better.

I believe that is true, intellectually. My body? Perfectly normal. My body 25 pounds heavier? Also perfectly normal. And yet emotionally, I can't get there. Why can't I do with my husband what I do with my kids? Is there a point where I will accept that when he (very appropriately) grabs my various body parts, they feel perfectly normal and OKAY? If I lose 10 more pounds, will I feel OK then?

I am disappointed with myself lately. Too many indulgences, and not enough discipline. I feel like a quitter, like a loser. Which I KNOW is stupid.

So this week, I want to focus on what I LIKE about myself. Including my body. And I'll start with this post. So please excuse me, I'm just going to step over here and compliment myself:

I always thought that my mom had beautiful hands. I think I have her hands.

I have a great smile.

My eyes are more than a little smashing. Especially when I wear mascara.

My hair may not be the thickest, but it's a nice, completely un-grey, natural color.

I have delicate wrists.

I can rock the shit out of a sexy top. It's all in the collarbones and shoulders.

I didn't get any stretch marks from my two pregnancies.

I have eyebrows I barely need to pluck.

*I* like my nose. You (and when I say you, I don't mean you, of course) may not, but I do.

If you play the right music, I WILL shake my booty. And I will enjoy it.

I can run faster and farther now than I could in high school.

I am beautiful.

How about you? What do you like about your body? How do you try to embody high self esteem for your kids (and yourself)?