Lovely Lynnia

I'm weird. And usually hungry

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there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world. there is good in the world.

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Just thought of a memory I have from when I was probably ten or twelve. I was in a gymnastics class with all ~16 year olds and we were all laying on our backs in a circle looking up at the high white plastered ceiling of the gym after a rough practice. One of the girls looked down at her stomach and sighed, stating that she wished it would be as flat when she stood up as when she was laying down, suctioned into her velvety purple leotard. I looked down at my own stomach and didn’t understand why she would want her body to change- from my pre-pubescent perspective, her curvy body was PERFECT. Our coach looked down at her from outside the circle, squatted down next to us, told her that if her stomach looked like that when she stood up she wouldn’t be able to have kids. That we’re all in the body we’re in for a reason. That the amazing things our bodies did earlier that day should be more important than the flaws we thought we saw. Remembering that reminds me of how much love my body deserves and I don’t want to let it down, ever.

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yogaandpeaceofmind:

yogadinosaur:

*Insecurity Post*

The photo on the left was me five pounds before my low weight. I had a million dance injuries that refused to heal, I had no period, I had thinning hair, my whole world revolved around food and exercise. This was about two years ago.

The photo on the right was taken a week or two ago. There is over a forty pound difference between the two pictures. I have gained a lot more than weight though. I have gained new hobbies. I have gained friends. I have gained muscle. I have reconnected with my family. I have gained curves. I gained having a period. I gained life.

Yeah, my body isn’t perfect. I am still trying to figure out what the best weight for me is. I might need to tone up a bit. I have stretch marks. I have cellulite. 

It doesn’t matter though.

What does matter is that I have never been happier. I no longer cry myself to sleep at night. I have never been more comfortable in my own skin. I have never been more excited about the future.

Recovery isn’t about gaining weight. It isn’t just about eating or controlling one’s exercise habits. It is about getting your life back. I’ve done that. 

Love you abi!

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the scales laughed as they tipped against my favor

I knew not to look at the number

I knew not to look at the number

I looked at the number.

watched it climb as the nurse stared

waiting for it to stabilize and-

OUCH

hit me so hard I’ve bruised

broken vessels, blood rising to the surface in mottled splotches of

red and pink, black and blue

color me a rainbow of insecurities

paint me with your perceptions of perfection

and unattainable ideals of beauty

I am your canvas.