I don't heart my body.
I definitely head my body, but I don't heart my body. If I did, it would not have been as hard as it was to take a photo this morning.
There is nothing artistic about this photo. It is taken this way to omit the parts I find least flattering and given a filter to gloss over the parts I don't want you to see.
This makes me sad.
My head tells me how fortunate I am to be gifted with a healthy body that carry's my soul, that carried and nurtured my son and allows me to live in the fullness of life.
My head loves the story board that is my body, the laughter lines that speak of joy, the wrinkles in my forehead that tell of grief, stretch marks from pregnancy, episiotomy scars from birth, surgical scars from five knee surgery's, the scar from my belly button ring, the tattoo on my ankle. My body has many wonderful stories to tell, my head knows it and I'm sure my heart does too, but for some reason it is reticent.
I am not obese but I am overweight. I have a paunch from pregnancy and a muffin top to match. My face is fuller than I like and I crave the extra energy that comes with feeling fit. Despite wanting to change this, I get in my own way and I don't know why. There have been times throughout my life where I have focused on my health and felt wonderful. I don't want to be perfect, I just want to be the best version of me, as defined by me.
So I'm not there. But my head knows something that it's going to teach my heart. My head is going to tell my heart that my body is a freakin' wonderland, it is a roller coaster of ups and downs, lumps and bumps and soft landings and its serves its purpose well.
Do you heart your body?