Moving and Not Moving Enough

So, I have a new house. I’m sitting in my new house, on my new (to me) couch in a new(ish) neighborhood. I am buying this house. I’ve never bought before, only rented. This is sort of scaryawesome.

Kind of like starting yoga.

I haven’t been doing enough yoga for a variety of reasons – most of which are really probably excuses. I haven’t had time, I’ve been busy packing and moving and cleaning the old place, I can’t afford it, blah blah blah.

And then, my wonderful dear sock rocking friend introduced me to a small group on Facebook where everyone does one pose every day (probably more, but one specific pose) and takes a selfie of it, posts it to the group for accountability, and gets whatever lesson they need from it. Yesterday was Day One. We did Wild Thing. I could have taken a selfie of it, I have the technology on my phone. I didn’t. I did the pose, felt proud of myself for it and all that jazz, and didn’t post a picture.

Today, I recognized the Chicken Shittiness of what I *didn’t* do, and took the picture of me doing Three Legged Dog.

I was immediately horrified, complete with the visceral reaction of disgust and stomach turning.

I started making excuses for my crappy, ugly pose in my head WHILE AT THE SAME TIME denying myself any leeway for it. Sound strange? The arguments inside my head when anxiety is present are pretty epic, and logic is absolutely nowhere to be found.

I’m crying even now, and beating myself up for THAT.

No, really.

And then someone mentioned that even though I was only just seeing what gravity does to me upside down, pretty much everyone I know already sees me every day and sometimes even upside down, and they still love me.

Which got me thinking, why can’t I? I can look at a picture of my friend doing almost exactly the same pose in almost exactly the same way and be all cheerleadery for her. And I can look at a photo of myself and think that no one in their right mind would find that attractive. Wait. So my beautiful, wonderful friend can look almost exactly the same in the picture but I mentally assign kudos and attractiveness to her only? Great job, brain!

This must be the lesson I need to learn with this new project.

Self Acceptance Is Harder With A Photo Attached.

So here you go – a photo of my in my new (still fairly sparse) house, with no yoga mat, doing more of a standing split than a three legged dog because hardwood floors are SLIPPERY. And it doesn’t matter that I have belly fat, or that I think my rolls look super huge and even bigger than my boobs, or that I didn’t do something right or that I hate my fat arms.

What matters is that I did a yoga pose tonight.

What matters is that I found the courage to post a picture of my yoga pose.

What matters is that I am making the choice to accept myself as I am, where I am.

And even if I’m always fat (I hope not), I am still worth acceptance, especially and even if only from myself.

Image
I may not love how I look, but I love that I did it at all.
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