Welcome to the blog!

I've always been a solid kid. Born at nearly nine pounds, I came into this world a solid mass of baby fat and muscle, and spent my first ten years of life gleefully romping through the world, unaware of my body and never pausing to contemplate it in wonder or to evaluate its worth. I was perfectly, freely strong and blissfully unaware that I would ever try to be anything less. I wore spandex pants with footsies practically every day of grade school, and refused to wear jeans. Jeans were restrictive and tight - spandex gave me freedom and flexibility. My hair was long and frizzy and free, my teeth crooked, my eyebrows bushy and black, my arms more hairy than a girl's were supposed to be. I walked through the halls of school shamelessly, oblivious to judgment and refusing to conform to others' expectations of me, happy to be in my own skin.

But something changed when I got to middle school. And slowly, insidiously, a trickling doubt crept into my awareness: why did my body seem different from those around me? Other girls, especially the "popular" ones, were petite and slender, whereas I was sturdy and strong. Eventually I began to grow aware of the size of my thighs, to evaluate them and to compare them to others. Where I once saw only the strength to jump higher and run faster, I now began to see fat. I grew increasingly aware that women were expected to constrict any loose skin, to keep their bodies tight and contained, so I started to wear jeans. My arms became repulsive to me, my eyebrows a source of shame. I remember accidentally eavesdropping from the other side of a wall divider as classmates made fun of my eyebrows and arms, and crying in the bathroom in mortification. In place of freedom I began to feel trapped in my own skin. Where I had once felt self-assurance and contentment, I began to feel the constant ache of inadequacy. My comparisons slowly consumed me, to the point that I developed a destructive pattern of disordered eating that would plague me for years to come, unbeknownst to most of my acquaintances and even to most of my loving family. Even now, most of them, through no fault of their own, remain unaware of the emotional turmoil I cycled in and out of from seventh grade through undergrad. This was an intensely private battle between myself and the mirror, more internal than external, and one that I took great pains to keep hidden from those I love (once I even realized that I had a problem).

In the weeks and months ahead, I'll be sharing a little more of this story with you. I'll invite you into the journey of my relationship with my body, and will lead you with me as I explore what it means to "own my strong" in preparation for Mudderella, a 5-7 mile mud course designed by women for women. Along the way, I'll be exploring the women's issues that have propelled me to get involved in this particular race, which is raising money for Futures Without Violence (an advocate for domestic violence prevention and awareness). I'll also be linking to resources and sharing "fitspiration" (never the vile "thinspiration" that only feeds into bodily insecurity). In this blog, we will touch on everything from eating disorders and self-image to global gender inequality and an end to violence again women.

Along the way, I hope to hear from some of you and give you the opportunity to share your stories too! I welcome your comments and feedback, and ask simply that you be respectful and use compassionate language. This blog is intended to be a judgment-free, supportive space, and to serve as a resource for all women who are working to overcome destructive patterns of relating to their bodies and to embrace healthy bodily acceptance. I'm hoping to have guest posts from some of my Mudderella teammates along the way, too, and look forward to sharing our collective wisdom and lifting one another up.

Thank you for joining me on this journey.