I had planned to work out today. Nothing major. Just lift some heavy stuff up and down. I didn’t. I grabbed a tub of frozen Cool Whip, some peanut butter chips, and chocolate sauce (dessert of of the desperate) and plunked onto the couch while Stacy and Clinton reminded me (yet again) that I really do need to invest in more fitted jackets.
It’s been a weird few days. Weird. Phenomenal. If you’re reading this post, it’s probably because you caught an article I wrote for SheLoves Magazine entitled ‘A Love Letter to My Body’ (If you have not contributed your own yet, please do. It is by far the most healing thing I have ever done). I had never written for SheLoves Magazine before. Heck, if you’ve noticed from this blog, I haven’t really written a whole lot of anything. I love to write. I need to write in order to process life. But I’ve never really done it in this avenue. But I wrote this one article, and it’s become a bit of a thing. So many women have penned their own love letter and it’s resulted in a little movement of sorts. I’ve wept reading these letters. I’ve marveled at the courage diplayed by each fearless woman who hits ‘post’. And I’ve laughed until I was weeping all over again.
But I’m not quite sure why God allowed me to write the first one.
I’m not an exceptional writer. I don’t have a huge blog with throngs of subscribers. I have no clout. I could list a dozen candidates in the next five seconds that I think would have written something that far surpassed my elementary entry.
So why did He let me?
I have to admit, I have no idea right now. I feel very humbled and honored to have been a part of something so beautiful. But as my computer screen glows back at me today, I feel nervous. Like I have something to prove. As if I need to say something that is monumental. Or poignant. Or inspired, at the VERY least.
Here’s the thing. My days consist of blowing bubbles at my most darling six month old babe. Healthy eating sounds like a super idea, but as you can tell by the above mentioned Cool Whip, I’m a little all over the map. Loving my body is a daily choice. One that I don’t always make. I believe Seinfeld is hands down better than Friends, that Glee would really make anyone happy, that no carb should be left behind, and that Jesus loves me (and you). I quote Pride and Prejudice daily and am known for making batches of cookie dough with no intention of it ever seeing the oven. I’ve never felt more out of my element than I do as a parent. And yet I’m shocked at how much all this bubble blowing is coloring in my previously black and white heart. I am passionate about introducing women to their own gorgeousness, to abolishing fat-talk, and to pulling women off treadmills and giving them a dumbbell.
That’s where I’m at. I don’t know exactly what God has for me in this life. But I’m going to write it out. And if you’re here, and you want to come along, that would be lovely. If this isn’t monumental, or poignant, or inspired enough for you, that’s OK too.
Love to you today,