32, and Neon Blue

How did you honor your body today?

Maybe it was on Dr. Phil's show that I heard some words of wisdom about people needing to honor their bodies. I like that show; I like how Dr. Phil doesn't sugarcoat anything, and tells people what they might not like to hear, but need to hear. In today's stifling world full of fear of words, denial of the truth, and lack of accountability, Dr. Phil is like a breath of fresh air.

So, every day, I ask myself, "How did you honor your body today?"

I gained new respect for my body after having two children. Instead of hating, and being disgusted with, the changes, as I feared I would be, I actually am proud of them. Because, incredibly, amazingly, I made two human beings, grew them with my own flesh and blood, and that, to me, is a miracle.

I look at, and touch, my boys, and even now, I can't believe I did this. I kiss their little necks, and feel their heartbeats, fast as a baby bird's, under my lips, clasp their little hands, touch their tiny elbows, and am in awe. Real people-- I *made* real people! My friend Jacqueline once said of her daughter, Taylor, "I even adore her poops," and I can relate to that. When I have to change a diaper, I secretly rejoice, because it means they are eating and drinking enough, and that their little bodies are getting the proper nourishment.

Because Boomer only has one good kidney, I am thrilled with each pee he makes. I am grateful, given what could have happened if both his kidneys had been multicystic and dysplastic . So, I smile and empty the potty, and tell him he made a "Nice peepee." Then, we both grin and clap.
With Stefan, I am happy to see poops, because for the longest time I worried about him, given that he vomited so very much, and he still does, albeit more rarely these days.

What was my initial point? Oh, yes: I am proud of what my body has done, and therefore, I think my body should be respected, and treated well. It still has years of child care to do, and my children deserve the healthiest, most energetic, most able-bodied mother they can possibly have. My medical files said, "Advanced Maternal Age." Hell, I am not afraid of words, let's call a spade a spade: I'm older than your average mom of an infant and a toddler.

But I can do something about that. I can't stop the sand in the hourglass, but I sure as hell can make it a bright, vibrant color! I am going to be electric blue, or hot pink, or, heck, give me the whole darned rainbow. They say that people who work out, especially with weights, take 10 years off their chronological age.

So, I am 32, and ...Neon Blue! He, he.

PS -- Today I did a kickass Backwards on the Stairmaster session, right after I set dinner on the stove, and before it was ready.
Time to exercise can be found. I should know, because I've used up all of my excuses.