Planting the seed.

 Hello again, let's talk body image for a second. Did you know, around 25% of male children/adolescents in the US are concerned about their body image? Want to know an even more shocking number for females ages 13 and younger? Around 50% of young girls have reported being unhappy with their body. This number grew up to nearly 80% by the time girls reached 17 years of age. Nearly 80% of young teenage girls report fears of becoming fat. 

I understand it's difficult for both men and women, but for some reason, women live their daily lives constantly concerned with the way their body looks. It's not thin enough, tight enough, certain areas aren't round enough, smooth enough, and on, and on, and on...I am 100% guilty of this way of thinking. When I was younger, around the age of 12, puberty was working it's way into my life, and my body started changing. I grew a set of boobs that no 7th grader should ever have to deal with. By the time I reached 8th grade I was known as the girl with big boobs. I was already painfully shy growing up, and receiving this kind of attention made me want to crawl in a hole and stay there. I soon started to get bullied by someone very close to me. Whenever we would get into a fight, the big F word was thrown at me. And I don't mean the fuck word. I mean F-A-T. When that knife was thrown my way, boy did it cut deep. Not only did it cut deep, but coming from someone who was close to me, and supposed to help lift me up, shot me straight down, so why wouldn't I believe it? 

I started playing volleyball my 8th grade year and LOVED it. I was good at it. What I didn't love, and what I wasn't good at, was all the running and conditioning we had to do during practices. I hated it with a passion. My giant boobs never behaved, they were always touching the net when I would jump up to block and holding my fists together to bump the ball was stupid. I hated my boobs. I was convinced that I looked so fat because of these giant things on my chest. Ninth grade came around and I continued playing volleyball, but my boobs just kept getting bigger. I remember one horrifying day that I was actually sent home because my cleavage was so bad. I swear to god I could wear a turtleneck and my tits would still be hanging out. Ok, ok, that was an exaggeration, but you get my drift. The suckers were big! I also somehow gained a boyfriend at this time. He was weird, insecure, and emo, but I was weird and insecure too. He was 2 years older than me, had a car, played the cool guy card, and I was in love. I was also 14 and definitely not old enough to have a serious boyfriend, but we were inseparable. He also liked my giant boobies (facepalm). By the end of my ninth grade year I was so over my boobs getting in the way of my school and sport life that my dear sweet mom offered to take me in to a doctor and talk about a breast reduction. I was like, "you can do that?!" I was terrified, but jumped on board right away. Fantasizing about adorable little boobies on my chest was all I thought about. Oh how skinny I would look! My boyfriend at the time however, was not so thrilled about my decision. The last day of school came and went, and a couple weeks later I was scheduled for my first ever surgery, to cut my titties off. Yikes! The surgery took 3 hours, and I woke up loopy as hell, with boobies 2 cup sizes smaller. I was in heaven. I had the whole summer to heal and build a relationship with these new friends of mine.  

I thought having smaller boobs would fix all of my body image issues that I had with myself. Boy was I wrong. I had the same boyfriend up until the end of my junior year. When I said we were inseparable, I wasn't joking. We were always together. I even quit playing volleyball because spending time with him was more fun, and easier, than getting up and running my ass off at practice everyday. With a young love comes stupid choices. Stupid health choices. We ate cheap fast food all the time because neither of us had any money. I rarely did anything active at this point in my life and my weight was going up, and my confidence was going down. The day that broke me was stepping on to a scale, and I saw 200 lbs. 16 years old and 200 lbs nearly killed me. Remember my bully I told you about? Yeah, that kept getting worse with each fight we would get into. My boyfriend also had a couple buddies that were mad at him, and used me as the dagger. He would get messages like "your girlfriend is fat". Ouch! So not only is someone close to me calling me fat, but now outsiders are saying it too. It has been confirmed. I am fat. Which means there must be something wrong with me, right? That's how I felt. I felt worthless. Why would anyone want to be my friend? 

The summer before my senior year of highschool, my boyfriend and I broke up. At this point in my life I couldn't even tell you why. But I was completely devastated and heartbroken. It felt like I was mourning the death of my best friend. I had a couple close friends my senior year, but not many. I had lost a best friend a few years back due to some mean girls who started a rumor, and my other close friend discovered the beauty of vodka and boys, so I didn't see her much. My life consisted of a lot of TV, and food. I did have a job once I could drive that kept me busy after school and on weekends, but going out with friends on my free time was a rare occasion. I felt so out of place. I hated my body, I hated dressing up, I hated going shopping because nothing ever fit cute. I craved attention from boys but always got negative attention. I finally met a guy who was older than me, living on his own a few hours away from home. He genuinely liked me and we clicked really well. He slowly pulled me out of my little shell and he became my best friend. I also started drinking and smoking pot with him. I loved to drink. I felt confident and on top of the world when I would drink. I ended up moving in with him in a bedroom he was renting from one of his friends. I sort of worked, and he worked at a call center. This is where I discovered that working a normal 9-5 was so not my cup of tea. I have started and quit so many jobs in my life, simply because I wasn't happy there. My happy place is very important to me. 

Since I was so broke, living 3 hours away from home, and felt so incredibly lost in life, things just didn't feel right. Obviously. I was still pretty insecure and my boyfriend and I started getting into stupid fights. One fight got so bad, he grabbed me and threw me against a wall. It scared the shit out of me. I decided that day I was moving back home. Away from him, and to find myself again. The day before I moved home though, I remember putting on some cheap sneakers and attempted going for a run on the trail behind our apartment. This is the day a little tiny seed was planted. All it took was this half assed run to realize that is was I needed. I felt amazing. I felt clear headed. I felt strong. I don't know what it was about that day, because I was forced to run the mile in middle and high school, and I hated every second of it. In fact, I would come up with excuses to get out of running the mile.  Perhaps because it was my choice to step outside and go for a run, made it seem more doable. Or maybe I felt empowered because for the first time, I was the one putting my foot down and walking out of a bad relationship. Honestly, I'm sure it was a combination of both. 

The day I moved home, my sister had one of her new boy toys over and boy toy brought his friend. He was cute, tall, funny, and he liked me. God dammit. Here we go again. Falling for a boy just because he showed interest in me. He held a level of confidence though that I admired. I wanted to feel that way and I remembered that run I went on. I did feel that way. So, I thought, if I could get even more skinny, then this guy is going to stick around. Not the healthiest foundation to start a weight loss journey on, but hey, I'm just being real. 

Shortly after I met boy toys friend, he asked me to be his girlfriend, I said yes, and a whole two months went by before he became yet another toxic one too. We broke up, I felt all the feels for about a day, went for a run and was healed! What?! Just kidding. But I did handle it WAY better than I handled the last two break ups. It was time to focus on me now. I continued my nightly runs, got my ass signed up for hair school (which I dropped out of by the way. We'll get into that in another post), made a few new friends and just had fun. I was finally figuring out who Miquela was. The shy curtain was finally coming off.

There's something about stepping outside into mother nature, throwing some music in your ears, and hitting the pavement that becomes addicting. Sure it's difficult during the actual run, but each time you go, your body gets a little stronger and you're able to run just a little longer. It's a mental game for sure. Positive self talk is the key factor in order to keep going. Exercise isn't just sweating your ass off and being sore. It really does affect your mind and your spirit. It's incredible! You truly do form into a new person on the inside. That is what keeps me going, 11 years later. Moving my body literally feeds my soul. It helps me have a clear mind. God knows I need that with 3 little girls running around! I'm able to hold my head high and look people in the eye. It helps me be a better partner to my better half, and a better mother to my children. It helps me walk into a room and not worry what other people are thinking of me. The benefits are endless. I could go on forever. If there's one thing I will forever be grateful for, is finding my love for health and fitness. Not just because it helped me lose weight, but because it helped me grow tremendously in mind, body, and spirit.