I still wake up, some mornings, surprised by the size of my body. I look in the mirror, expecting to see less than what’s really there. I notice what I’ve lost: muscle, protruding bones, the extra space that is now filled. I’ve gained so much more.
This body doesn’t struggle through hours on the treadmill. It is not wasting away. My hip bones no longer scare my mom. It doesn’t ache constantly. I can sit and lie down without feeling pain.
My body is soft. It supports me as I go about my day. It is growing stronger. It allows me to do yoga each day simply to enjoy. It has stretch marks to remind me where I’ve been and that I have fought hard to come here. It is well-nourished and healthy. It isn’t perfect, and that’s okay. It deserves my love.
It is exactly what I feared for so many years. It is different than I expected. It is more than what I was okay with. It is more than I could ask for. It is different, but that is a good thing. It is exactly the way its supposed to be.
My body is more beautiful than ever before and I am beginning to see it.