Self... Like?

Maybe.  Maybe not so much.

I know full well that I'm supposed to embrace and love and revere this post-baby body of mine.  I know it.  But it doesn't mean I actually feel those things.  In all honesty, I don't like my body at all right now.

Sugar Substitutes

Want to hear something mildly shocking?  I've cut nearly all the sugar from my diet.

For the average person, this might be no feat worth bragging about, but for me?  Well.  It's life-changing.  I may as well have decided to start speaking in Pig Latin all day, it's that big a deal.  Not eating sugar is a conscious choice that I must make throughout my entire day.  "No sugar, Sara.  Choose something else."

Why put myself through the agony of finding other ways to quiet my grumbling stomach?  Another bit you may not know about me is that I've got a stubborn case of acne.  I've been battling it for six years since my body was mucked up by taking (and then quitting) The Pill.  I've tried all the popular cleansers, drinking lots of water, taking vitamins, using no fabric softeners, using "free & clear" laundry detergents, changing my pillowcases twice a week, and on and on.  I did discover, a few years ago, that eliminating dairy from my diet cleared up all the breakouts on my forehead.  It was a huge breakthrough moment for me, because you cannot put a price on feeling even a tiny bit less embarrassed.  

But, my skin took a turn for the worse last December.  I began battling painful acne on my neck and jawline, and each new spot took a month to heal.  And it kept getting worse and kept leaving marks and kept making me sad.  Because I agree with everything I've read that says acne is the outward evidence of a hormonal imbalance, I've started giving more thought to what I eat.  And, it's no surprise that I eat quite a bit of sugar.  Quite a bit.  Having Sarandipity orders in front of me three nights a week is an obvious source of sugar.  But, I also turn to baking sugary treats as a means to relieve stress.  Which, of course, I eat.  Every last crumb is devoured, because, seriously, I bake delicious things.  

So, after reading comment after comment written by acne sufferers who cleared up after cleaning out the sugar, I decided to step up and try it myself.  And then, I bumped into this article, detailing how both dairy and sugar throw insulin and hormones out of balance, and it sealed the deal for me.  I've long had issues with sudden drops in my blood sugar, so I'm now thinking in terms of the things I can do to keep it even, eliminating the steep peaks and drops.  

And, here we are.  Seven treat-less days under my belt.  The only place where sweet has maintained its stronghold is in my coffee.  I've cut out the Splenda, but I haven't yet managed to cut out the flavored creamer.  I'm weaning myself off it; my coffee is looking more and more like a sad watery brown instead of a lovely, cozy, and delicious shade of tan.  But I'm content making baby steps there right now.

I've dropped the treats, the sugar, and I've quit serving starchy carbs with dinner.  It sounds like a lot, and it has been a huge transition.  But, I'm feeling extremely proud of myself for sticking to this.  And, I'm finding joy in new foods - The crunch of a roasted almond.  The variety of fruits I had previously bypassed when grocery shopping.  The versatility of quinoa.  The way a delicious sauce completely changes the taste of an entire dish.  The rainbow of color I put into every meal.

I'm learning new ways to love food.  And there are still so many foods I can love.

Operation Pretty Up, No. 1



photo credit


As in, pretty myself up.  But on the inside; not so much what might make me drop-dead anything to anyone else.

As everyone is talking and writing about New Year's resolutions, I've been reflecting over this past year and how I currently feel about myself.  I'm in the middle of a small lull in my side business, and it's giving me much-needed time to breathe and think and strategize.  You see, I've been feeling downright awful about myself over the past four months.  Longer than that actually, if I'm being completely honest.  And it's not just the usual, obvious things that women generally lament.  My issue is that I know full-well how to take care of myself, but I'm just not doing it.  Not hardly a speck.  Sure, I slap on makeup every morning, and I do make an attempt with my mop of a hairstyle.  But there are other things I've let go by the wayside - like ample sleep; eating well; working out; heck, shaving my legs more than once a week.  And I'm tired of feeling ugly for not doing them.  I yearn to feel feminine and alert and, well, pretty again. 

So, with the New Year beginning, I'm putting myself on the track to Pretty Up.  And I don't care what the rest of the world thinks of how I look on the outside.  This is all about feeding my soul some beauty.  I'm going to do the things - no matter how small - that make me feel like a girl.  A pretty girl. 

Today?  Today, I work out.  I will bust my shoulders and quads to the Jillian Michaels dvd, and I'll (stiffly) walk away feeling so proud of myself for doing a small thing to feel good inside.

An Open Letter to My Midsection

Dear Thighs, Dear Belly, Dear Buttocks:

I'm really just so sorry for how I've been treating you lately. 

It's not your fault that you look and feel the way you do; it's my fault entirely.  You don't deserve to be stabbed with my looks of disdain and discontent as we get dressed in the morning.  You don't deserve to be treated as some evil nemesis of this body of mine; you belong to me, and you are a part of me. 

To be honest, you really have never asked much of me.  Your greatest wish is for me to take you running, so that you'll feel strong and powerful and healthy again.  You want rest so that you can conquer each day with ease and grace.  You want to be less burdened by fat so that you're not having to struggle carrying around extra weight on this frame.  You're crying out to feel strong, and I'm completely ignoring your pleas. 

I'm sorry, Midsection, that I've been embarrassed of you and that I've racked my brain for ways to cover you up.  You've treated me so well over the years, carrying me to places and people and making my life so much richer by these experiences.  I've treated you as the enemy when really, you are a warrior. 

I'm sorry, Midsection.  I really am concerned with your wellbeing, and I'm trying hard to figure out how to take better care of you.  We'll get through this together.

Love,
Sara Kay


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Round Like the Letter C

At different times during my gradeschool years, I was teased relentlessly about my big butt. (Jason White, you better hope that we don't ever meet up in a dark alley. You're toast.) It wasn't until 9th grade or so that I got my first compliment about it. And it totally took me by surprise. And then it took another handful of years before I finally believed that those kinds of comments were sincere and not meant to mock. Fast forward another handful of years (ok, maybe a couple of handfuls of years by now), and I've realized that - like with my naturally curly hair - there are 2 camps of people: those who dig it, and those who do not. And you know what? I no longer have any interest in listening to those in the latter category. I've learned to embrace this butt I pack around with me. Heck, it's probably the reason why I'm good at running hills. And now that I'm Running A Lot, I'm becoming fonder of my bootie back there. So you think it's not cute? Pffft! Shoo, be gone. I don't have time for you. I've got a hill to tackle.

I Have Thunder Thighs

(click on the image to view it larger and read the text)

Four years ago, Nike launched an ad campaign to show love for a woman's strong body. Not the kind of fitness ads we're used to seeing. These show muscle, not bones. Pride, not shame.

I'm going through a spell of not loving this body I've been given. It works perfectly well, but I've been sending myself less-than-ideal messages lately about the way it looks. But I'm running again. Running always makes me feel strong and fierce and proud. I may not be able to zip up a size 2, but I can pass you on an uphill. And a downhill, for that matter. And that fills me with pride, and at some point, pride will slowly turn to love.

I'll pull out a few more of these ads over the next handful of posts, so that you can read them all. They're just too feel-good not to share.