23

I’m 23 today, guys.

twenty. three.

how crazy is that?

I’m 23, with a husband and a house and two beautiful boys….

I feel like i’m too young to be this old :)

More importantly, at least to me, is that today marks 3 years.

3 years of being pregnant and/or breastfeeding.

3 years of not having mine own body.

3 years of hormones.

3 years of obsession with bellies and boobs and tiny fingers and toes.

three. years.

how AMAZING is that?

how perfectly designed my body was to do… this.

my body that grew and fed not 1 but 2! amazing, wonderful, tiny little people.

My body has done nothing but support me, endlessly. It is capable of miraculous things. Contains unimaginable strength. (have you ever seen a 9lb baby? Cuz that coming through a 10cm hole is nothing short of miraculous)

So why am I so mean to it? Why do I criticize my body when I don’t fit into those jeans or i fall out of that yoga pose or i jiggle when i run up the stairs? Why am i constantly filling it with GARBAGE FOODS?

One ¬†of things i’ve been focusing on in yoga is to accept myself. As is. No conditions. I try, and if I can’t do it? ok then. Maybe i’ll get it next time. rather then “stupid frikin knees!” “God, I have no upper body strength, this is pathetic.”

I don’t really know where i’m going with this, though. Just, maybe think about what you are really doing when you criticize your body. Or when you fill it with junk.

Be nice to your bodies, guys!

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