It is without question that I have gained weight during quarantine. And I guess it was due to the reduction of my physical activity. So, my first instinct was to loathe in misery. I had this idea that my body was now a place of condemnation. How taking up more space equated to shame. Though the pandemic has brought great grief and misery, I found myself feeling foolish. The root of my despair still stemmed from my poor body image, when the changes surrounding my body inflicted so much unnecessary pain.
The pressure to look slimmer took a negative toll on me. Because measuring my worth based on a weighing scale felt so ridiculous, a stream of tears ran down my face. My heart then felt another moment of grief. How my soul uttered another prayer of forgiveness. And this became a reminder not to be ashamed of my body. For how can I disgrace the very home that kept me alive?
My body is not a montage of disgrace whenever it takes up more space. My body is a song of survival. How it is the vessel of my soul; the very house God made just for me. Without my body, I am nothing. So I remind myself that I need to love it. I thank it for surviving my most troubling times. How it is the only home my soul will ever know.
I will now no longer apologize for my body. Instead, I will celebrate it daily. Thank its unique beauty. How it is worthy of the same love and kindness I bestow upon others.
My journey to loving my body is a tough one. There are days when it feels like a chore. But I am not giving up. Regardless of how I look or feel, I will always be enough.