The Loudest Voice

I’d like to be the voice that drowns out self-doubt. The voice that sees only the good and discards the negative chatter. Sometimes I am that voice. Yet, other times I’m the voice of self-doubt. I’m the one speaking the nasty words to myself.

You have so much cellulite.
You’ve got a layer of fat covering the muscle.
Your legs are too big.
You look great but only from the front.
Your boobs are too small.
You weigh too much for your height.
Your skin isn’t flawless. Not even close.
Your hair is mousy and either flat or wildly untamed.
You’ll never be thin.

The mean words can flow and flow.

And sometimes the words are about my food intake. Chastising myself for not eating better. Cleaner. Less.

Why is the voice wanting me to be smaller? To take up less space? What do I think will happen if I lose 5 or 10 pounds?

So I try to be a louder voice. One of reason. One that knows I’m perfect exactly as I am. One who feels strong when I lift heavy weights. One who is proud when I’m running fast or through the woods. The voice that doesn’t equate my worth to my weight.

It’s hard to be the louder voice that drowns out society’s beauty standards. To accept yourself exactly as you are. But it’s something to strive for.

My eyes are drawn to my imperfections. Yet they aren’t with other people. Why can we see the best in others but not ourselves?

This weekend I saw my weight on the urgent care discharge papers. It was a higher number than I expected. Then I started rationalizing: my ugg boots weigh about 4 pounds. My clothes another 2-3. So take away 6-7 pounds and that’s closer to the weight I assume I am. I haven’t actually weighed myself in years. The number fucks with my head, no matter what it is. I still think it should be in the 120s - my high school weight. A weight from over 20 years ago. I know this is nuts. So I have a rule of never weighing myself and not looking at the doctor’s office. I gauge things by how my clothes fit. And right now they fit great. But still, seeing that number threw me into a tailspin. I had to ask myself - Is this how I’d want my daughter to speak to herself? No, of course not. So why do I allow it myself? I’ve had to really work to put that number aside. To not let it spiral me.

I ran today. A hard, interval workout. I felt my glutes powering me forward. Propelling me up hills. And I was proud of what my body did. I felt strong. And that is the voice I long to hold on to. The one who is athletic and secure in herself. The one who wants to be strong, not skinny. And I will fight for that voice to always speak the loudest.

The Boston marathon is playing live in the background as I write these words. The muscles on the elite runners are incredible. Those women are strong. Not skinny. And they remind me to not put vanity and what I think I should look like first. Health should be queen.

So I ask myself: am I healthy?

I’m over 3.5 years sober.
I eat a balanced diet - not one of obsession or restriction. Nor one of gluttony or binging.
I run and lift weights.
I meditate.
I prioritize sleep and my mental health.
So yes, I am healthy. And that fact should be enough to silence the voice telling me I’m not enough. I’m perfect. Truly. And each day I’ll remind myself whenever I forget.

While society and instagram and beauty magazines are loud, we each have the power to drown them out. To choose to be the loudest voice we hear. To be our own champions. It’s not easy and I am sure I’ll slip again and again. But the path to kindness is paved with the words we speak to ourselves each and every day. It’s time to start speaking loudly. To change the narrative so the next generation knows the least exciting thing about them is how they look. So that we know this too.