Daily Mind(less) Chatter

I went to the pool yesterday. I like to workout and feel pretty healthy but started wondering how in the hell these women with children are able to wear a bikini. Not tankini. Bikini. Short in the butt, strings holding it together. Buff, taut and looking good. My stomach gave way long ago just shortly after my boobs started to fall. Working boobs mind you. They've fed some babies. But honestly, if I wore a bikini I would have to wear my stomach in a ponytail and roll up my chest. But I digress. But isn't that the point? At the same time I realize I need to stop noticing shit like that. Or in the least I need to start discerning rather than judging (thanks, JtotheP, for that one.)

Meanwhile I am at the pool with my mom and her cousin. My mom complains about her body nonstop. I mean nonstop. If she even so much as walks near a fridge she can find someway to berate herself for eating too much or gaining weight. If I talk about a callous on my foot she will say it reminds her of how many calories she consumed yesterday. Clever one she is.

My mom is 65 and in my opinion, looks great. Maybe she's gained some weight over the years but she has no health problems to speak of. Except that is, the mental obstacle of finding anything remotely likeable about herself. Herein lies my own personal challenge. I have inherited that trait. If I spend as much time over the years as she has cutting on myself I will not ever notice the good things. I used to think I got that trait from my father but now I think it has been an even and thick application coming from each side. I may be doomed. Though I know it somehow it is hard to stop it.

So now I am looking at one woman in particular who is absolutely gorgeous. Everything is cut. Oddly enough I don't feel disdain or jealousy or anything negative. I was sort of in awe and daydreaming about "maybe someday" as I imagined just how many personal training sessions I'd have to endure to get there. But just then as I was looking (likely ogling) at her yet another buff mom walks across my line of vision. For more than just a split second I notice the first mom also noticing this second mom. I could be wrong but her stare seemed more like a, "This is my turf. What are you doing here?" type stare. Then I felt sorry for her. Perhaps having and maintaining a body that perfect is a chore in more ways than just the work it takes to get there. Perhaps it is the burden of perfection. Perhaps liking oneself doesn't come free with those rock hard abs. I looked down at my self and gave an affectionate pat to my belly and I set a new healthy goal for myself. It will certainly be an arduous battle which goes against my genetic makeup but if I work really, really, really hard I may someday appreciate the good in myself.