Love-Hate relationship

From what I can remember, I've always had a love-hate relationship with my body. It doesn't always love me and I usually hate it.

Whether it's the fact that I was always the shortest person in the class. Or that I suddenly found myself with more curves than I knew what to do with in middle school. Or the on/off return of the dreaded kidney stones. Or the amazing poppable knee I now have. I've always been able to find something wrong. Something to criticize.

The other day I stepped on the scale in the bathroom, just out of curiosity. Not a good idea. After I recovered from a minor panic attack I quickly got dressed and headed off to work. But I couldn't get my mind off of the scale. Later that night I took the time to give myself a good hard look in the mirror.

And while I was horrified by the number on the scale, I found myself almost liking what I saw. Curves that my skinny friends have never had nor never will. Strong muscular legs from years of sports. Arms that can lift my friend's kids with ease or hug long lost friends. Call it a function of age but instead of becoming depressed and overly critical of what I saw, my mind immediately came to terms with what was staring back.

Sure I want to get back into shape. I know I could stand to lose some pounds. But this time around, it's not because I want to be some skinny little thing who thinks all of her problems will disappear if she just loses a few pounds. No. This time around I'm hitting the gym to be ready for hockey season. To fit back into some of my favorite clothes. And to make sure this body goes on doing it's thing for a long time to come.