Cultivating Self-Love: Style Icons

One of the things I consider when thinking about my style is who my style icons are. I'm not talking about who fashion magazines tell me are definitive style icons, I'm talking about the women that I look to who reflect a style that I wish to emulate (or simply admire). 

As a general rule of thumb, I"m not particularly into role models and icons and whatnot. I think that everyone should be their own person. I'd like to think I can be my own style icon.

When it comes to style, however, I think it's good to have a starting point, especially if you're unsure of where to start. Style is very personal and a reflection of one's personality. But sometimes, it's hard to define what exactly that personality looks like.

Enter: style icons.

For me, style icons are anyone that I look to for inspiration when it comes to style. It could be the way they do their hair, their makeup, the clothes they wear, or the accessories they use. There is often something about their aesthetic that stands out to me and that I can incorporate into my own look.

To give you some ideas, let me share with you some of my style icons:

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Jane Fonda, for starters. The first time I saw Barefoot in the Park, I fell in love with Fonda's look. There was something about it that was carefree and energetic, yet feminine and glamorous. 

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Lauren Bacall. Look at that gorgeous hair. Bacall, for me, represents a smoldering femininity. She is glamorous in every way.

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Natalie Wood. I think my first exposure to Wood was Splendor in the Grass, which I watched several times as a teenager. Not only is Wood an incredible actress, but she has a great, fun style.

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Elizabeth Taylor. Famous for her violet eyes, many husbands, perfume, and a tempestuous personality. But you can't deny this woman had impeccable style that screams Classic Hollywood.

By choosing these women as some of my style icons (I have more, which I will bring up in another post- you'll see why), I can see my own personality reflected which helps me to make my own style choices. Clearly, I adore classic Hollywood glamour, with a bent toward the 1950s-60s. 

Hollywood stars also have dogs.

How does my own style reflect my style icons? In part, through my accessories. If you've followed me very long, or follow me on Instagram, you'll have seen my infamous white Ray-Bans. I chose these sunnies four years ago for their classic Hollywood look and have loved the investment ever since. When I slip those babies on, I feel like a movie star. 

Another thing I do is wear red lipstick. I don't wear it all the time, but when I do, I feel incredibly put-together, like Elizabeth Taylor. 

Would ya look at that- retro dress, red lips, and infamous white sunnies!

If you were to open my closet, you would also find I am a huge fan of dresses, and I love a good sundress with a 1950s flare, or a good sheath like what Elizabeth Taylor might have worn.

One more way I incorporate the retro look is through polka dots. Polka dots are my print of choice, and I love wearing them- they make me feel a bit like Natalie Wood. I prefer to stick with black and white or blue and white polka dots, as I feel those match my aesthetic the best.

So you see, I use my style icons as jumping points for expressing my own style. When I'm out shopping, it helps to keep in mind who my icons are as a guide to keep my wardrobe within a similar aesthetic (so I can mix and match). I'll touch on my personal style and how I shop in a future post, but I wanted to relate how my style icons fit in.

It really helps me to know who my style icons are, and to accept that they might not be the same as someone else's. Again, our style is a reflection of our personality, and just as we each are different in our personalities, so should are icons be different (or the same- that's ok too). Just know who you are and what you like.

Who are some of your style icons? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below!

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Cultivating Self-Love: Style

Can you believe it's May already? I don't know how it happened, but here we are. It's time to introduce the next theme in my Cultivating Self-Love series, and this month I have a fun one: style.

Perhaps you're thinking to yourself, "what does style have to do with cultivating self-love?" Let me tell you.

Style is an expression of oneself- the way you present yourself to the world. I believe we all have a style- some girls are jeans-and-t-shirt, others are dresses and high heels, and some are a mix of both. Personally, I have gone through phases where my practical style did not match the style I envisioned for myself.

My favorite dress in the whole, wide world.

As a little girl, I was all about the dresses. And swimsuits with winter hats (it's totally a thing). My very favorite dress was this red gingham dress that my mom sewed for me and I wore it far beyond was appropriate (basically until the hem was at my crotch). I loved (and still love) the freedom a dress bestows. As I got a little older, dresses also became a way to live my fantasy of living in another time period. I've always been fascinated by history, and my style was a way to play with that.

I'm thinking of bringing this look back.

Once my body began changing, about age 11, I became a jeans and t-shirt girl. I wanted to cover everything up and make sure no one could see my belly rolls or boobs. It was also really hard to find size 14 clothes that were stylish and age-appropriate, so Disney and youth group t-shirts were my cover up of choice.

Once I got a job in high school, I branched out a bit more with my style since I had a bunch of disposable income and could buy whatever I wanted (instead of what my parents could afford- I was one of four kids, after all). Old Navy had just opened up a store at our mall and I became a loyal customer. I started adding 3/4-length sleeve tees to my wardrobe (a daring move, I know). Oh, and since it was the end of the 90s, color was making a comeback and I was stoked.

Throughout college, I experimented a little, but remained a jeans and t-shirt girl. But I longed for the day I would graduate and join the working masses and be able to wear more lady-like clothing. I wore casual skirts to express my feminine side, but I longed for dresses and high heels.

Once I got my first grownup job in the States, I really started to play with my style. I've always loved clothes, and I love playing dress up, and I feel I've learned a thing or two (granted, I owe a lot to Stacy and Clinton of What Not to Wear fame). But I still have struggles with my style from time to time, especially when going through changes.

So this month I'm dedicating to loving my style. This means reflecting on what my style is, what I want it to be, and how I express it. It also means accepting that having style does not make me superficial (something I struggle with, and a big reason I haven't done any style posts here on the blog in the past).

Join me this month as I explore my style, and get a peek into a side of me that you might not have known existed. I'll be sharing a bit about style icons, my personal style, my beauty routine, and more! Feel free to let me know if there is anything you want me to share!

How do you feel about style? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below!

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Cultivating Self-Love: Life as a Late Bloomer

I know you've heard of them, and maybe you even know one, but do you know what it's like to be a late bloomer?

I'm not talking about a girl who doesn't go through puberty til her late teens. I'm talking about the kind of person for whom things seem to happen way after they've happened to everyone else.

Confession: I am a late bloomer.

For one, I've never quite felt like I knew what I wanted my future to look like, beyond a few vague ideas involving travel, writing, and dance. I wasn't one of those kids who wanted to be an astronaut, or a CEO. I wanted to see the pyramids in Egypt, write a book, live on the Coast, run a bookstore, and dance in my free time. I also wanted to be a superspy. But nothing concrete.

I went into college thinking I wanted to major in theater (bet you didn't know that about me). I really wanted to make movies, but when it come to making decisions, I couldn't make the right ones for that to happen. After two years at community college, I had my epiphany: I would major in French. A year later, another epiphany came: I would minor in Art History. I took six years to get that degree, something most people do in four (granted, there was a move and varying graduation requirements).

Heading into the workforce, I still had no idea what I wanted to really do. Originally, I wanted to go to grad school and become an Art History professor. Fate stepped in and helped me change my mind, but that left me feeling a bit lost. I'm finally learning to accept that I still don't know where this career is heading, and that maybe I should look at it as a good thing (something that is open to possibilities).

And then there's the fact that I was a late bloomer when it came to my looks. I was a bit of an ugly duckling during my teenage years, no joke. I never wore the right brands, my hair was a mess, I had hideous glasses, and I was overweight and had to wear old lady bras (no such thing as cute full-chested bras back then). Things started looking up when I got my eyebrows waxed for the first time, and started wearing contacts. But I was still overweight, still dowdy.

I have a journal entry from my early twenties where I wrote that I hoped to be a hottie by the time I was 30. I actually felt like one at about 27- I was finally getting my hair under control, I was the thinnest I'd ever been, I was dancing, and running, and could wear dresses and look awesome. Perhaps the years of being and feeling unattractive made me appreciate what I've grown into a bit more.

But then there's the bigger way that I'm a late bloomer. In the romantic department. Have you noticed I don't talk a whole lot about my love life on here? I tend to prefer to keep that part of my life under wraps- it's too vulnerable, and it's bad enough to have my feelings hurt and be let down, but to have them hurt and let down in front of other people is too raw for my liking.

Through junior high and high school, I was not focused on boys at all (granted, I had seen examples of teen pregnancy which kind of freaked me out- a kid would totally ruin my future travel plans).  I also thought boys were kind of awful- they tended to tease and torment and threaten to kill (true story: a boy in 8th grade threatened to kill me in Art class). Or pester in a very uncomfortable way. Boys were bad as far as I was concerned.

One time, in 9th grade, I think, a boy asked me out while we were in the library for English class. I turned him down, fearing that his friends put him up to it as a joke. I really, truly believed no one ould ask me out for real. Looking back, I think it's possible that may not have been the case- we had been sort of friends in 5th grade.

Did I mention I went stag to prom? One of the prom princes pity-danced with me during one of the last songs, which was sweet. I had never met him, never known who he was before then, but he was friendly with me and I appreciated the kindness. Pretty sure one of my friends who was a prom princess put him up to it. He went on to be a firefighter, which I thought fitting. Sometimes princes turn out to be good guys.

In college, I was focused on getting straight A's. I didn't get them (hard to when you get a B in Drama 201 the first semester), but I did graduate summa cum laude. Needless to say, dating, and most socializing (though I managed to make some great friends) was not a concern of mine. I also still felt like an ugly duckling.

So when did I start dating? Age 28. Some people think that's weird. I call it being a late bloomer. There's a reason Persuasion is my favorite Jane Austen. I also love stories about people finding love later in life, because it means it could still happen for me.

That's the thing: all along, I've wanted to be loved. I've wanted someone to fall in love with me- I just never really thought it could happen to me (in the past, I've had a hard time believing good things could happen to me).

And here I am, 31, with only one relationship under my belt, still wondering if it will ever happen to me. I've yet to hear the magic words, and still have so many firsts to uncover. Just this week, I faced yet another rejection, and I can tell how far I've come by how well I handled it.

See, that's another way I'm a late bloomer- I'm 31 and just now learning how to love myself. Rejection doesn't mean there's something wrong with me, that I'm ugly, or that I did something wrong. It just means that it wasn't a good fit. I'm finally feeling good about who I am and what I have to offer, and yeah, it may have come later in life than it did for others, but it's here now, and it's growing.

That's right, guys. I'm blooming.

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Cultivating Self-Love: A Question of Age

How old do you feel? I'm 31 but I don't really feel much older than 23. Sure, I've been through plenty of grown-up stuff since 23- I've lost loved ones (to suicide, cancer, Alzheimer's), I've moved a ton, I've lived and worked abroad, I've dealt with taxes, I've opened and closed bank accounts, I've had my own apartment, I've changed jobs, I've dated, I've had my heart broken, I've traveled alone, I've bought a ridiculously expensive pair of shoes (every girl should have a pair of Louboutins- they're an investment), I've bought big-girl clothes (like blazers and high heels and sheath dresses), I've paid multiple medical and dental bills, had surgery, and I've even had a mammogram.

But then there is the part of me that still loves throwing an impromptu dance party in my living room on a weeknight, who wears flats with sundresses, who gets really excited about going out for ice cream, who still gets a kick out of spotting rainbows, who loves swinging on the swings at the playground, who jumps up and down any time she's really excited (half of the time, it's food-related), and who still sees life as something full of wonder and possibility.

I also still have plenty of milestones ahead of me, if they are in the stars. I've yet to find "the one," have kids, own a home, go to Istanbul, lose my dearest loved ones (and still pray that maybe I don't have to know what that is like), have a major health scare (which is always at the back of my mind given a family history of breast and colon cancer), make some investments (and hopefully see them pay off), and start buying granny panties and relying on Depends (not to mention going through the "big change").

But really, I'm happy with my age right now. I spent my 20s feeling time slip through my fingers. I spend time with other 20-somethings because I thought 30-somethings were too mature, had been through too much, and just wouldn't get it. Now that I'm on the other side, I want to tell 20-somethings to befriend every 30-something they can, because those are the folks who've been there and will get it and then some.

So really, what age matters more? The age you are or the age you feel? In the end, I don't think either mean much at all. In the end, they're just numbers, but they have no way of conveying the truth of the person behind the number.

Tell me- how old do you feel? Is age just a number to you? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below!

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Cultivating Self-Love: The Ghost of Haircuts Past

Have you ever had a haircut that made you want to cry? A style so terrible you felt you couldn't show your face in public? I've been there, believe me.

In fact, my hair has seen all kinds of styles, good and bad. As a kid, I really wanted Stephanie Tanner's hair (of Full House fame). I was born neither blond nor curly-headed so I had to make do with Sun-In and a perm. Sadly, my hair is so stick-straight that my perm tended to have some flat spots in it.

There was also a time when my mom cut my hair so short that the kids in my class called me a boy. I began first grade with long, thick hair, and ended it with a weird short style. In school, our class would march to lunch in two lines: boys and girls. Boys sat on one side of the table while girls sat on the other. After my terrible haircut, my classmates made me sit on the boys' side of the table. Kids are cruel.

As I got older and my coloring changed, I couldn't pull off blond any more (who knows- maybe I never could). When I was 15 I decided I wanted to try highlights in my hair- and had my mom do it. She used one of those kits with a cap and lets just say she pulled way too much hair through the cap. I became a blonde (pictured above). I was horrified and mortified, even though everyone was much nicer to me about the change. After a few weeks, I had my mom dye my hair back to brown. Which just turned my hair black. Jet black. No going back.

Thankfully, several long months later, my mom took me to a professional who corrected the color of my hair. I no longer trust anyone outside of a salon to cut or color my hair.

I've even come to associate some haircuts with certain periods of my life. I tend to go through phases of growing my hair long and then chopping it all off (my own personal flair for the dramatic). I've had both short and long hair while living in France (my hair grows really fast), and short and long hair in high school. In junior high my hair was a horrible rats nest, so you won't be seeing those pictures here. For the past couple years, I was working on growing out my hair so I could have long, luscious bellydancer locks.

As it turns out, my hair fantasy does not match my hair reality. I'd love to have gorgeous long layers that curl perfectly. The reality is that my hair is slippery and stick-straight. It's hard enough keeping it in a ponytail let alone adding some curl (which will disappear after an hour).

So, after some serious thought (come one, I know I'm not the only one who thinks seriously about her hair), I decided to chop it.

Before

After

I can accept all of the trials my hair has been through in the past, for I've learned some valuable lessons. The biggest one? Stay true to who you are and what works for you. Sometimes reality is better than the fantasy.

Have you ever had a horrible hairdo? I want to hear all about it! Share your story in the comments below.

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Cultivating Self-Love: Body Recap and April Preview

Once upon a time, I found my doppleganger amongst a collection of old photographs.

April Fool's!

Actually, the image above is a clue as to April's Cultivating Self-Love theme (hint: it's not about booze or my non-existent drinking problem, though posing with bottles seems to be a pastime of mine).

Have you figured it out yet?

First, before I reveal April's theme, let me recap Month's theme of loving your body:

I introduced March's theme with suggestions for ways to show your body some love.

Next, I talked about 10 things I like about my body.

Then I got a bit more serious and talked about rejecting "fitspo."

And then I went deep when I talked about loving my body through the changes.

And finally, I had my first guest poster and collaborated on a linkup with Alicia of Jaybird.

I had a lot of fun talking about loving your body this month and sharing what that has meant for me. I've treated my body kindly this month by doing a smoothie cleanse, performing bellydance, and getting back into yoga. After 21 years of struggling with my body image (sadly, I have diary entries from when I was 10 talking about wishing I weren't fat), I finally feel like I am at a place where I accept my body as it is, and appreciate all of the wonderful things about it.

And finally, I'll tell you what I'll be focusing on in April: the past. Confession: this is the topic I am the most nervous about. It's what I struggle with most. There are versions of myself in the past that I don't accept, and which make me uncomfortable. There are years in my life that I don't care to revisit. But I think to truly love yourself, you have to love all of it, and that includes showing some love to your past self, especially the unlovable bits. Stay tuned.

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Love Your Body Linkup

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Today I'm sharing with you a guest post by my blogging buddy, Alicia of Jaybird. This collaboration has been in the works for a while now, so I am very excited to share her voice on my blog today. We have decided to open up our collaboration to the blogging community by creating a Love Your Body linkup, and we encourage our readers to post their own stories and link up with us (see below). While you're at it, you can check out my story over on Alicia's blog.

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Of course I want to love my body.

I want to appreciate my body’s potential for strength, endurance and physical accomplishment.

I want to embrace it, no holds barred, and nourish it as best I know how, every single day.

But some days? That’s nearly impossible to do.

Self-love isn’t perfect. Really, is any kind of love perfect? Every relationship has ups and downs, frustrations and joys, disappointments and thrills. Our relationships with our bodies are no different.

Everyone has the occasional case of the nasty some days. Whether the negativity is about your body, your performance at work, your relationship or your home, it feels like it’s seeping in from all sides. These days are especially discouraging when you’re actively trying to be kinder to yourself, to cultivate self-love and to practice compassion.

I have those days, too. Even though I write about loving your body, there are days when I look in the mirror and feel disappointed by the woman I see. I pick apart every single feature, wondering why I can’t ever get rid of acne or stick to a way of eating that I know will eliminate my belly fat. I try to get dressed for work, only to discard all the pants that are too tight and the unflattering dresses in a pile on the floor. I look at the “love your body resolution” sign on my mirror and roll my eyes, knowing that I’m not living up to my own standard of kindness.

I’m sharing these doubts because honesty is important. Imperfection is important. Occasionally bloggers will write a post where they "reveal" a messy home or laundry that sits undone. The comments are inevitably affirming: it validates us to read that even in a world most often illustrated by smiling selfies and Pinterest-perfect organization, no one is perfect.

That applies to self-love, too. I want to peel back the layers of advice and positivity that I've dished out and say, honestly, that I don't love myself perfectly. I have days and weeks when I know I'm not doing right by my body, and I'm directing insults at myself that I'd never aim at someone else. During those weeks, I look to friends and other writers for inspiration and a reminder to keep trying.

Even though they aren't the most pleasant of emotions, self-doubt and discouragement are teachers. Those weeks when I'm not feeling great are often the weeks when I have the most to say about loving my body. The blog posts I write become gentle reminders to myself: be patient, be understanding, pick yourself up and try-try again. They push me to be as generous with my time towards myself (working out, cooking nourishing meals, reading books before bed) as I am towards others. I can take the negativity and channel it towards loving myself better, even if it doesn't happen right away.

The wonderful thing about self-love is that the more I practice, the better I get. So even when there are difficult days, I can call on the positive habits I've cultivated to keep me going. I think of what's made me feel better in the past when I'm feeling down on my body: taking a moment for quiet reflection, asking myself five why's to figure out the root cause of my upset or doing something healthy that I know will make me feel good. I unfurl my yoga mat and practice or stretch for a few minutes. I pull out my favorite cookbook and make a new meal plan, then go get groceries and get cooking. I put on my running shoes, even if I don't feel like it, and I run through the blah until I get to the beautiful.

From the imperfect, I draw inspiration. From negativity, I learn a lesson. From this community, I draw support. It's an ongoing education, this journey to cultivate self-love, but I can't imagine a better field of study.

Alicia writes Jaybird, a blog focused on self-improvement sans sleaze. She believes in cooking with joy, eating with gusto and moving often (ideally to super catchy pop music). Jaybird is a place to find community, inspiration and the occasional chocolatey dessert recipe. She'd love to say hi: you can find her on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and Pinterest!

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Cultivating Self-Love: Loving Your Body Through the Changes

How do you react when you notice changes, be they minor or significant, in your body? Does a new wrinkle make you panic? Stretchmarks make you lose your mind? Or, how do you feel when something just won't work the way it used to, like a bum knee or your circulation?

Today I'm going to talk to you about loving your body through the changes, something that I have experienced personally, and which I think all women can relate to given the seasons that our bodies are designed to encounter. I'd like to inspire a revolution of embracing change.

First, lets talk about the cosmetic changes- changes that are visible, but that do not cause any harm to your body. Changes that are strictly aesthetic.

Ah, to be a carefree kid again. Don't mind the hat.

I'm not sure when they first appeared, but I've had stretch marks for far longer than I lived without them. I was one of those lucky girls who hit puberty a little bit earlier than her peers (and thank god I was a grade ahead age-wise, or the changes would have been noticed even more by my classmates than they already were). At age ten, I remember the day that a girl (who had been a good friend in fourth grade) snapped my bra strap while we were sitting in class. I was humiliated, not only because someone had done something mean (and loud) that drew attention to me (and my bra), but also because I felt ashamed of my budding breasts (a shame, mind you, that lingered well into my early twenties). Within two years, my body grew- my hips filled out, my breasts grew, and the rest of me became a bit overweight. Sadly, I was not blessed in the gene pool with elastic skin, so stretch marks formed over most of my body: the backs of my calves, my inner thighs, most of my stomach, my hips, my breasts, and the wing-bits of my arms. Puberty was not kind to me, and I've been left with reminders of that ever since.

At my skinniest, and in great shape underneath it all.

Another change my body has encountered, the results of which I was entirely unprepared for, was significant weight loss. What people seem to not tell you is that some people may lose the way, but their skin does not shrink to fit the newly toned body. Loose skin means that shapewear is required for any tight-fitting dresses, and that pants will forever be a frustration, thanks to a perma-muffin-top. I have a weird pooch above my belly button that will never go away, unless I opt for plastic surgery, but I never will because I've already had a laparoscopic surgery in that region and that was all the surgery experience I need. When you lose weight, you kind of expect to end up with a tight, toned body and perky breasts- no one ever tells you that your body will look lived-in.

Hello eye-crinkles.

Lately, though, the change I've noticed the most is the lines that have appeared on my face. Crinkles that show up every time I laugh or smile or squint in the sun. Lines around my mouth, like parentheses (as though my face know my tendency to over-use parentheses). Lines that can tell you just which faces I make the most often. These are the newest changes, and therefore the hardest changes, for me to accept about my body.

And as for the changes in function?

Post-half-marathon.

Developing a knee injury while training for my first (and most likely only) half-marathon forced me to think about how I treat my body, even if what I am doing is for my own good. I used to love goal-setting and goal-getting, and running a half-marathon was going to be an easy way to fulfill that need of mine. I trained for months to walk/run those 13.1 miles, and up until race day, my body seemed ready. Unfortunately, mile 3 saw my knee tugging at me, and I was forced to hobble/joggle the remaining 10 miles. I was incredibly stubborn and refused to seek help- I wanted my medal, dammit! A stint of personal training showed me that weak glutes and hips had led to a tightened IT band, which is what cause my pain. It's an issue I still deal with, one that requires strength-training, and which means that I still don't run much further than 3 miles.

My foot at its least attractive and most painful.

My other major change occurred when I was a month shy of 25 years old. While at my first real belly dance class, I looked down at my toes, which felt funny, and noticed they were white. Not pale-white from lack of sunshine, but white-white from lack of blood flow. My sister was in that class with me and I had her looks at my toes. How weird! A few more episodes and a Web MD search later, I determined I must have Raynaud's. My dad telling me that my grandmother and cousin both had/have it, and I was sold. A doctor's diagnosis (my toes had actually turned purple in his office), and it was official. I have Raynaud's- the primary kind. This means that even the slightest cool breeze (cool being anything lower than the current temperature) can cause the blood to stop circulating to my hands and feet. This then gives me a pins-and-needles feeling, sometimes numbness, and usually followed by burning when the blood returns. I've had lots of minor episodes, a few really bad ones (which even running my extremities under warm water didn't fix), and I am pretty much constantly trying to keep warm. This is by far the most difficult change I have faced, and while I know it doesn't compare to what some people go through, it's been hard for me. I used to be someone who overheated easily, and I still sweat more than I think is average. But going from being someone who could sit outside on cold pavement in January, to one who feels that anything below 75 is cold, is rough. 

So, how have I loved my body through these changes?

As for the aesthetic stuff, I've reminded myself that physical beauty is not eternal. We all go through changes, and no one is immune. And change can be beautiful in itself. Those stretch marks are quite fascinating if you think about it- they now form pale, iridescent stripes along and around my body. They tell a story, one of change and triumph, and if I think of them as hugs, it's like they're hugging the bits of my body that need the extra love. As for extra flesh- that's another storyteller, victorious and strong in its own way. And wrinkles? They're evidence of lots of smiles and laughs, of enjoying this life I've been given.

And the functional changes? While they've been tougher to love, I have come to accept them and work with them. A bum knee means no more training for long runs, but instead doing physical activities that feel good to my body. It also means making sure that strength-training is a part of my life. And the Raynaud's- I keep fingerless gloves on me at all times, and prepare for any situation in which I may find myself cold. That means taking a blanket and warm, fuzzy socks to the movie theater, and wearing thick, warm boots most of the year (October through June in a bad year, through April in a good year). It means choosing function over fashion, most of the time. And keeping Little Hotties on hand at all times, in case of emergency.

Change is a part of life, and our bodies are great examples of that. Instead of fearing or rejecting change, I suggest we embrace the change and learn how we can love the changes our bodies experience. It's not easy starting a revolution.

What changes have you learned to accept in your body? How does change affect how you feel about yourself? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below.

Hey friends! Would you like to join in the conversation about loving your body? Next Monday, March 31, I will be joining Alicia of Jaybird for a Love Your Body linkup! Since January, Alicia has created a series on her blog called Love Your Body Resolution, and she has posted some inspiring stories there. I am very excited to feature her here on my blog next week, and to link up with our fellow bloggers! For more details, and some prompts to inspire you, hop on over here.

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Cultivating Self-Love: Rejecting "Fitspo"

How do you feel when you see an image of a thing, toned, tanned body with words like "no excuses" emblazoned across them? Do such images make you love yourself more?

If you're anything like me, they don't. For me, these images remind me of a body that I will never have, and a body that I have learned that I don't even want.

Actually, no I'm not, and  I'll tell you why next week. Source

I know we've all seen these images popping up in our Facebook feeds and on Pinterest (especially on Pinterest). Some argue that they are meant to inspire women to take control of their health and move their bodies. But really, they are just another means of (emotionally, mentally) punishing women for not living up to some ideal that someone else decided was attractive.

My problems with this are manifold. 

First, the images themselves. Only one body type is represented in these images: that of a thin, usually white, tanned, and toned body. Many of these images even feature a woman with somewhat large breasts, with just the right amount of cleavage to make it "sexy." These women have defined abs and very little body fat. Nothing about their bodies is soft.

Personally, I don't want a hard body. I want a body that babies want to cuddle with. I want a body that jiggles some when I belly dance (it makes for a more pronounced visual). I want a body that is feminine and sensual, by my definition. This means more body fat than what these pictures tell me.

Is the body I want unhealthy?

Nope. In fact, the body I want is the body I have. And the body I have is within a healthy BMI range.

And this takes me to my second point. Women shouldn't be striving to change their bodies in order to love them. Women should be encouraged to love the bodies that they have. Why? Because love is what matters. And if you're coming from the stand-point of promoting health, people take care of the things they love. Loving your body leads to caring for your body.

My second problem with fitspo are the words that are used. There is too much talk of "no excuses" and "a hot body is the best revenge" and "someone who is busier than you is running right now." Really makes you feel great about yourself, right? Wrong.

Call me sensitive, but such words just make me feel chastised. I imagine a drill sergeant yelling at me, or some snobby girl giving me that stinky face look. No bueno. 

First of all, the bodies in those images require more workout time than needed to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Some people just don't prioritize fitness in that way. For some of us, three times a week is all the workout we can manage, and that is ok. For some of us (ok, for me) sleep is the biggest priority in our well-being, so we are not going to simply wake up earlier to fit in a workout (also, I prefer working out in the evening to burn off stress). 

So don't talk to me about excuses, I've got mine and I'm ok with my choices. And as for having a hot body?

Since when is my body not hot? And why does it even have to be hot?

That last one is the one that gets me the most. To me, the worst thing that these images do is perpetuate this idea that a woman's biggest goal and greatest asset is being sexually appealing to everybody. Seriously? I do not want everyone to be sexually attracted to me, far from it! And last time I checked, I was a person with thoughts and feelings, whose greatest asset was her capacity for love.

So, how do we fix this? I, for one, have stopped following Pinterest boards that pin these types of images, just as I stopped buying fashion and fitness magazines years ago. We can all start making choices about what we want to see and what images we choose to surround ourselves with. And if you're someone who casually pins or shares these kinds of images, I'd like you to think twice about what kind of impact you are having. Chances are you're not encouraging someone to choose a healthy lifestyle. 

If you want someone to choose to eat healthy, pin recipes for delicious salads. And if you want to inspire someone to lead an active lifestyle, a lifestyle which manifests itself in all body types, show images of all types of people engaging in a physical activity. Because really, how many times have you looked at an average person (not a fit model) and thought to yourself, "if they can do it, I can."

How do you feel about "fistpo?" What sort of images make you feel inspired? I would love to hear from you in the comments below.

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10 Things I Like About My Body

Photo by Motormouth Studios

Today's post is inspired by Lisa's post last Wednesday, which was inspired by this post from Avoiding Atrophy, a new-to-me blog. I love the idea of talking about things that we love about ourselves. As women, we often feel the need to downplay our assets, lest we sound boastful, and more often than not, we tend to focus on the things we don't like about ourselves. For this reason, and in the hopes of encouraging you to do the same, I'm joining up with these two ladies to talk about ten things I like about myself. Of course, since this month I'm blogging about showing love for our bodies, I had to give the post my own twist, so I present to you:

10 Things I Like About My Body

1. I like my legs. I like their shape, their curve, and I like the way that they have taken me places I never could have imagined. They've climbed the stairs of Giotto's tower in Florence, they've run/walked a half marathon, they've danced across stages, and they've remained steady and strong the whole time (well, other than the bit about the IT-band).
2. My smile. True story: I never really thought much of my smile until one of the classes I taught in France. To give my 11th-graders a chance to get to know me while working on their English conversation skills, I had one half ask questions about me, while the other half guessed my answers to the questions. One question that was asked was what I liked best about myself, and my students guessed my smile. When I told them that was not my answer, they asked me why- it seemed so obvious an answer to them. That moment made me think I should smile more often- and I do.
3. My eyes. From a young age, I was always told this was my greatest physical feature, and I admit, I love my eyes. I love that they are big, hazel, and I love that I have naturally long-ish lashes.
4. My eyebrows. Weirdo-alert, but I love a good eyebrow, and I am very happy to have nice arches. I actually have a fairly prominent (to me) scar in my left eyebrow where it is white and no hair grows- I've had it since I was a toddler (I supposedly fell in the bathtub). So, though they be crooked, my eyebrows make for nice curtains to the windows of my soul.
5. My hourglass shape. Granted, dressing my shape is difficult given that many clothes manufacturers seem to make clothes more suited to straighter figures, but I love that I go in at the waist, and it's something I love to see when I'm decked out in my belly dance costume. It also makes me feel very feminine.
6. The odd brown spots on the palm-side of my hand. I've had the one ever since I was a toddler, but the other showed up some time in the last two years. They're kind of odd, and growing up my siblings referred to the one on my finger as my poop spot. Very funny (not). I don't care what they say- I like that it's unique.
7. My hair. My hair actually thinned out quite a bit the second time I lived in France, as did both of my roommates' hair (freaky). Even so, I like the thickness of my hair, and how shiny and soft it tends to be. I've grown to appreciate my stick-straight brunette locks, despite doing everything in my power as a child to get Madonna's and Stephanie Tanner's golden curls.
8. My nose. I used to hate my nose as a kid. I thought it as too big, or too round, or just plain ugly. But somewhere along the way, I grew into it. I'm not entirely sure who's nose I acquired, but I can say it's mine and has its quirks. And I like it that way.
9. My hands. They may be small, and they may be showing my age, but they are fierce. They can shape up an amazing scone, they can chop chocolate like their lives depend on it, they can fashion words out of thin air, and they give the best doggie ear and belly rubs.
10. My hips. I used to hate my hips. Really, truly hate them. They were too big, and finding pants was always frustrating. But then I discovered belly dance, and I learned how to use my hips. Now I love nothing more then to shimmy my hips in class and on stage. And who needs pants anyway?

I hope that this list inspires you to create one of your own. It may take some time and thought (I know mine did), but it is worth it. If you can, write it down or print it out and keep it near a full-length mirror so that even on bad days, you can be reminded of what you truly love about your body. Because, let's face it: we only get one body in life, so we might as well show it some love. Our bodies deserve it.

Your turn- share with me something you love about your body! Or better yet, create your own post! I'd love to hear what you love about yourself.

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Cultivating Self-Love: Body

Image by Olga Tenyanin

Do you love your body? Not in a "do you think you're hot?" way (though I hope you do feel that way about your body), but I'm talking about love as a verb here- do you show your body love?

This month, I will be exploring what it means to love your body, and I will be working toward faithfully showing my body love on a daily basis. Sometimes that might mean sleeping in, and sometimes it might mean doing yoga even though I'm tired.

Since it's Monday, I'm going to keep it short and share with you ways I might show my body love this month- feel free to share me your ways in the comments!

Ways to Show Your Body Love

• Take a bath with a fizzy bath bomb.
• Treat yourself to a face mask.
• Do yoga.
• Go for a run.
• Dance around your living room/office/kitchen/the street.
• Stretch.
• Do squats while watching TV.
• Sleep for 9 hours.
• Drink lots of water.
• Sit up straight.
• Wear your favorite dress and work it.
• Hug somebody warm and soft.
• Take a selfie.
• Look at yourself in the mirror and say, "damn, you fine."

This is in no way a definitive list, just some ideas to get you going. Now it's your turn- how will you show your body love this month? I'd love to hear form you in the comments below!

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Cultivating Self-Love: Mind Recap

I know I'm coming at you a bit late with this post, and I'm not sorry. I've had an incredibly busy week, and I decided to give my brain a break during what terribly little down-time I had. I also watched Frozen 3 times (2x were while babysitting my nephew, and 1x was just for undistracted fun). I say this, because it seems like in blogging, there are two camps: those who apologize for taking a break, and those who either don't believe you should take breaks, or that you should at least not mention the breaks (let alone apologize for them). I fall into a third camp: hooey to the rules, I'm blogging my way, and I'll say what I want to say.

So I took a bit of a brain break this month, which is perfect since this month's self-love theme was the mind. I truly believe that loving yourself means giving yourself a break from time to time (and not just waiting until you desperately need it). So, today I'd like to share how I've cultivated love for my mind this month:

• I read some books. I"m working on The Goldfinch, and I finished The Snow Child and Little Bee, both of which will be discussed at tomorrow morning's Ladies Who Brunch Book Club. I can't wait.
• I crunched some data for said book club. Turns out processing data and creating reports are something I will do for fun.
• I took an accidental 48-hour break from my phone while at the coast, and it was a nice break for my brain.
• I talked about building your vocabulary, and used some of my own tricks while reading new books.
• I shared the way I view productivity.
• I went to bellydance class and learned some moves that are quite challenging for the brain.
• I read this article about memories being passed down through genetics, which gave me some food for thought. Perhaps my fear of spiders comes from an ancestor who was attacked by spiders? Also, if I ever have kids, they might inherit an intense fear of the dentist.
• I took this geography quiz to see how much I remember from my college geography class. One thing you might not know about me: I LOVE geography. I love maps. 
• While I was at the beach house with 5 other women, I unapologetically took time by myself to read while the other walked the beach. I tend to get overstimulated without my alone time, so this was a crucial moment for my mental well-being.

I consider those my little victories this month in my project of cultivating self-love. There is a lot I did not touch on, but alas, February only has 28 days this year. What I know is that I have an interesting mind- we all do- and I've learned how to take care of it more, and love it a little better.

How was your month? Join me on Monday when I reveal what March is all about, and if you haven't already, sign up for my monthly newsletter for some extra content!

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