I’ve been embarrassingly addicted to Pintrest lately. I put off jumping on the bandwagon for a long time, but once I started organizing my life by photos, I was hooked. I love organizing. I love photos. What’s not to love about Pintrest? A few things, actually.
First, I know for a fact that Pintrest was invented from a collaborative effort by cupcake and wedding cake companies everywhere. Half of the pictures are of those delicious deliciosnesses. It’s very hard to love Pintrest when you are a cavewoman. There are enough cookie, cake, and dessert recipes posted to drive a defenseless sugar monster into a stampeding rampage of fury.
Second, it’s a total time suck. I hate losing hours to the internet. That’s one reason Facebook and I had to have a talk. And that’s the reason I’m trying to ease off of Pintrest.
Third, I can’t stand the photos of bikinied, super-skinny women with comments like: “I wish I could have these abs,” or “gotta start working out before summer!” or “this is good motivation.” It. Drives. Me. Crazy.
Sure, I remember what it was like to be focused on thin. I remember diets and running and scales and guilt. It’s hard to forget jean sizes and fat photos. I’m not saying these girls are stupid, I’m saying that they have their priorities programmed by media and an unreachable ideal. Who in the world thought it would be a good idea to make women everywhere think they are not good enough until they are skinny enough?! And who in the world keeps making skinny enough even skinnier?! I’m so freaking mad! I just want to grab these girls by their shoulders, shake them and yell, “It’s your body! Do it for you!”
When I aspired for skinny, it was for other people. Yeah, I wanted to look good. I wanted to be attractive and by direct result, happy. But here’s a game changer, ladies: when that’s your goal, it’s NEVER (never. never ever ever.) good enough. There is always a skinner, always another pound to lose, always another dream to chase. Read: there is never a happy.
Now that I aspire for strong, it’s all for me. That 30lb overhead press? That wasn’t for you. That was for me. Those back muscles? You never even see those, but I can feel them when I do boy push-ups. Oh, I’m still chasing the dream. I want stronger biceps, I want faster split times, I want a harder core. But in the meantime, I’m happy in this body and that’s directly because I have worked hard for it. Because I have done it for me, not for the camera, not for the skinny jeans, not for some idea that I should want everyone to want my body. As long as I put in the time, it doesn’t matter what goal there is because I am moving towards it and getting stronger every step of the way.
Let me tell you something: strong feels better than skinny. Strong is easier than skinny. Strong kicks skinny in its wimpy little ass and doesn’t say, “I’m sorry, did that hurt?” Because maybe if it did hurt, skinny should have spent more time in the gym and less time in front of the mirror.