Going on a month-long holiday right before bikini season is a horrible idea. Because let’s face it — the definition of holiday is “where are we eating next & what will we be drinking and why aren’t we already?”
I figured travelling with my 90-year-old grandmother would be safe. Maybe I’ll even lose a few I thought naively.
Unfortunately for me, Grandma likes to have dessert after every meal and when you’re overseas eating whole pizzas to yourself is just standard practice. So I didn’t come home skinnier. I didn’t come home unable to zip up my pants or anything, but let’s just say . . . no one’s going to be using me for fitspiration any time soon. My boobs are bigger, though, so there’s that.
On one hand, I’ve been really lucky in love with myself because the “hate” part of the love/hate relationship that is my body and I has only really existed in my twenties. My high school body was fine with me. My freshman fifteen body was fine with me. It wasn’t until I turned twenty that I realized my body had so much more potential — and as soon as you realize you aren’t quite up to your own snuff you start to get hard on yourself. Remember that time I did the cat daddy in a bikini to try and be like Kate Upton? Yeah.
So I came home from England and started doing what any twenty-something with a weight complex would do. I started a tumblr dedicated to making me want to work out. I looked at it for a solid four hours before I decided to actually work out.
And you know what? When I finally did, it wasn’t the worst.
I mean, it didn’t make a difference and I still ate a pizza to myself last night, but I didn’t mind it. I felt like I was doing the right thing, you know, for my body. Like, I would have been way worse off if I had eaten the pizza and not worked out, you know?
It’s funny, because even though I still have MAJOR TITS right now and as I’m typing this my thighs are mushed together as well as sticking to the leather couch and I wouldn’t want to be on a boat in a bikini getting photos taken with Iggy Azalea or anything I actually feel great. Better than I did before I got off my ass.
So I wrote a manifesto and put it on my top-secret fitness Tumblr. Because manifestos are where that shit’s at. It goes like this:
I believe that beautiful comes in every shape and size. I believe in trusting your intuition. I believe everyone knows what happiness feels like. I believe in the great outdoors, in throwing your hands out the window, in exploring new terrain, & in smiling showing all your teeth. I believe that being the best you is the only way to experience everything life has to offer, & I believe that everyone has the ability to change in an instant.
So . . . thanks Tumblr . . . for that last 5K.
What motivates you to get off your butt? Besides looking hot. Because we’re already all damn fine.
xo & yw