Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

I have been at home a lot more in the last month. Not having a job will do that for you, turns out. Also? Not having an income. My regular diet of smoothie, salad, and then... something? More salad, sometimes? Dinner out, more often than not - that diet is out the window. I've been making bread and my own ricotta and raw fig jam. And also, eating it.

Shockingly, that has led to weight gain. Not a lot, but a little. And I'm irritated by it.

I spend a lot of time thinking and talking about body image. It's important to me that women (and men) know that there is no right way to be shaped. That being happy with your body does not mean beating or dieting it into a certain shape - it means accepting that there is a range of shapes you will be able to attain and finding the one that makes you comfortable.

And yet I'm all concerned about five extra pounds on myself. Sure, it's easy for me to say that the shape I'm comfortable with is the one that's five pounds thinner, but it's also bullshit. This has nothing to do with comfort. Eating ricotta on toast is comfortable. Five more pounds is comfortable on my body. My clothes still fit.

It's my mind that isn't comfortable. I feel like my five pounds take me from being the right shape to the wrong one. Obviously, that's ridiculous - but how much easier is it to tell other people that they're beautiful than it is to accept it yourself?

I blame... Self Magazine. (Sure, I pulled that out of thin air, but it's probably not that far off.) Secrets to loving my body - as long as I lose inches all over?

Jerk faces. I'm going to have some toast. So there.

pack up the babies and grab the old ladies

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