I used to not see the point in exercise because my body was covered in stretch marks.
'what's the point in having a great body if I will never wear a bikini' I'd think.
If I was ever invited to the beach or a pool party, I'd always decline. On the odd occasion I couldn't avoid it, I'd stay inside, helping with the food or the cleaning.
I would only wear board shorts and t-shirts. I wished so hard that I could one day wear a bikini.
Then one day I overheard my loving husband explaining to a bunch of his friends why he thought stretch marks were beautiful.
They were a sign of being a woman. They are a result of the great love a mother has, that she would scar her own body to bring a child to life... on and on he explained and the more he talked, the more I got it.
I had hated myself for the very reasons he loved me. My body wasn't ruined or disgusting, it had transformed from a selfish girls body into a selfless mothers body and the scars were a symbol of that transition.
A daily reminder that I was a mother.
I looked at my stretch marks and I felt pride. I felt love. The love of my husband and the love of my children. Each one of them had been nurtured and lived behind those scars for 9 months.
I felt pride.
I felt love.
I felt love for myself.
The craziest thing was that when I started to love myself for what I had now, the body I had now, I began to treat myself better.
I WANTED to eat healthy. I WANTED to exercise, I WANTED to do the things I loved.
Just by changing the way I looked at myself with love and pride instead of hate, I had found the effortless motivation to care for my body.
Because of this tiny little shift in mindset, magic happened... I got the body I had always dreamed of. The bikini body that I thought was not ever going to be possible for me after being covered in stretch marks, It has became a reality for me.
It started though, with me loving myself first. Being grateful for what I had, not wishing for something better. 👉[see comments for more]👈