For the majority of my twenties, I was a self-proclaimed couch potato. Late mornings? Absolutely. Breakfast consisted of four chocolate pastries? Yes, please! My evenings were dedicated to binge-watching TV shows while snacking on chips.
I didn’t feel compelled to change my lifestyle, as I wasn’t particularly unhappy with my body or fitness level, despite my jeans consistently being in the “plus size” range and struggling to climb the two flights of stairs to my apartment. At 25, I tied the knot with a man whose life revolved around fitness. He embraced my couch potato persona since we met at 18, and I felt no urgent need to alter my habits, given that he seemed perfectly content with my body as it was.
When I turned 28, I welcomed my first daughter, and the couch potato lifestyle seemed to mesh seamlessly with the demands of being a new mom. By 31, I had my second daughter, and just nine months later, I completed my first half marathon.
The initial stages of my training were agonizing; every mile felt like a chore. I was running not just for myself, but for my daughters. I had clung to some extra pregnancy weight from both pregnancies and was edging closer to needing a size I had never worn before. My oldest daughter was three, and I struggled to match her energy levels while juggling a very active infant. I wanted to set a positive example, showing them a strong, capable, and confident woman. On race day, when I was ready to give up at mile ten, it was my daughters’ smiling faces cheering me on that pushed me to keep going.
In our household, the vocabulary around body image focuses on being “strong” and “healthy” rather than “skinny.” I avoid discussions about weight loss or negative body image because the world will soon inundate them with such messages.
At 33, I unexpectedly gave birth to a boy. Suddenly, I had a five-year-old, a two-year-old, and a newborn. My husband had just launched a new business, and I was battling debilitating postpartum anxiety. There were moments when I considered dropping running altogether. I had already shown my daughters what strength looked like, right? But then I realized I had to be a role model for my son, too. He needed to understand that women can be strong and capable. I envisioned him growing up to appreciate a partner who values self-esteem based on abilities rather than appearances. I want him to be the kind of father who encourages all children, regardless of gender, to embrace sports and adventure.
Many mothers recognize the importance of being role models for their daughters, but it’s just as vital for our sons. They will form their perceptions of relationships based on our examples. I want my children to grow up understanding the significance of health and self-confidence. And yes, I also want them to know that it’s perfectly fine to indulge in that fourth chocolate pastry now and then.
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In summary, my journey of self-care began as a personal endeavor but evolved into a commitment to be a positive example for my children. I strive to embody strength and health, promoting these values within my family while allowing for the occasional indulgence.