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Most of my life I have struggled with my self-image. I was the tallest kid in class when I was in fourth grade -- a full 5'5" with the curves and bumps to match. All the boys oogled me; I slumped and dressed to hide the 21-year-old figure I had been blessed with a bit too early. At 16, I became anorexic, starving myself down to a shadowy 100 pounds, wearing size 14 girl's clothing, and loathing myself because I thought my thighs were too big and my boobs, well, they were far to obvious. By 21, I was at least 110 pounds, but still constantly concerned about my size and the scale. I weighed every day, cut my food to nothing until the numbers were "acceptable" and start the treadmill over again.
When the Airman was born, I was "normal" weight, but I wore my regular clothes home from the hospital. He weighed a full eight pounds and six ounces, so I had made sure to eat properly and take care of giving him the best possible start -- even stopping caffeine and sugar to ensure he was healthy as possible.
Then, the battle of the scales started again.
I have been fat, thin, svelte, and all points in between. However, now, entering my seven decade, I realize that this fabulous body I have can do all things -- I unload 50-pound bags of feed alone; throw 60-pound hay bales; groom dogs; garden; canoe; bike (motorcycle and regular bicycle); trim goat hooves; paint houses, walls, and floors; and, about anything else I desire. I have come to accept that my weight really doesn't matter. Yes, I would like to be trimmer, but, perhaps all those years of abuse has taken a toll on my metabolism. Doctors say so, thus, it must be true, right?
Regardless, I am grateful for this body of mine for all it does to serve the spirit within. Here, at my seventh decade, I see others the same age who are more limited in what they are able to accomplish or struggle with daily pain and diminishing strength. I am grateful that I still have a healthy appetite, enjoy my food, and able to keep moving. I am grateful to my Creator for allowing me to have a body that, in spite of days when I am sore or tired, will still allow me to help others; pet my dogs, cats, goats, and pigs; knit; raise terrific tomatoes and potatoes; spend a day with my Mother and Daddy strolling their farm; cuddle a baby or wrestle an errant kid. Life is good and comes only in one size -- extra large!
Strength and well-being are really all that matters. And I have a healthy dose of both! How is yours?