But I see it everyday, my lack of commitment when it comes to my fitness. I used to be that girl who will run to spin class. Now I am that woman, who feels comfortable squeezing into a size 14.
I love me now. I had to fight to get here. I adore my non-smooth thighs and my unformed love handles. How my arms fill up a cup/shirt sleeve and the gentle sway in my African hips.
It is my face that betrays me. The contouring that looks like dark shadows beneath my chubby cheeks. The shiny apples dusted with MAC’s raisin. Glowing in the wintry spring breeze.
I may have stopped but I wont quit. Swapping app for app, trying to find someone else to drag my sleepy head off the smooth satin upon which I lay my head. Dredging the cold unfriendliness of the gym
But it is I who should walk out not drag myself.
Cheerfully and not drearily
I love me so much now
But I want to find that unconditional
I did my best and all I could kinda devotion
To my body.
It hurts that you know I have tried and tried again and now you laugh at my new schemes.
I may not be celebrated among the waif that jauntily stomp the runway.
And I will not stop trying and will one day find.
What fits me now which will make me fit