Running

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Find me a woman who doesn't care if anyone finds her pretty, and I would like to find out how she does that. Despite everything I tell myself about my other accomplishments, I do care. Not about everyone, because no one is attractive to everyone. But someone? It feels good to know someone thinks you're pretty. I admit it. But how good should it feel?

This isn't going to be a treatise or examination of modern cultural mores regarding female beauty. Suffice it to say: there is pressure for women today to have a perfect body. I don't. I hate the slight jiggle of my upper arms. I hate the curve of my abdomen. But then I hate the way the bottom of my rib cage sticks out when I lose too much weight and looks like a second chest. My butt is bigger than the norm and it's discouraging to go shopping and the button won't close because the pants aren't cut to accommodate a Spanish booty. It's embarrassing to walk past a storefront window or freezer case at the store and see the way my butt sticks out. I look away. I'm not there yet.

Which is why I love running. It reminds me what my body can do, that it isn't built to be decorative. I don't have perfect legs or butt, but they can run really far. And dance, which brings me great joy. Running tests my mental stamina to not give up. And running tempers the messages I internalize about the need to be pretty. Healthy is pretty. Confidence is pretty. You want to feel confident about your body? Run ten miles. Knowing I can do that means more than my opinion/issues with my backside. I'm glad. It means I still have balance and perspective of what is important about my body. And me.

Comments

wartimefirefighter said…
Becca.. i think you look amazing as you are. It's a shame i'll miss ya when i am in Baltimore... I'dlove to have you out for a night of dinner and dancing..

-Damien
Monday, December 17, 2007
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