I have a new Fitbit. I call it my “Fitbutt”.
Why, you ask? Because that’s my motivational
name for it.
Fit butt. It’s what I want.
Every time I back up to the
mirror and look over my shoulder, I keep waiting for the appearance of my 18 year
old backside.
I miss it. I want it
back.
I’m 48 years old, I’ve worked
hard, I deserve this one, little thing.
Or so I tell myself.
But, who am I fooling? I walk 10,000 steps, day after day, checking
the thumb-sized tracker in my pocket, pushing for that perfection.
10,000 steps to perfection…. Sounds like a
self-help book.
And while my little
fitness friend has helped motivate me, I need to remember that I am being watched
by someone far more important… my
teenage girls.
To see a mom who is motivated
to exercise, who marches around the kitchen laughing and counting steps at the
end of the day is one thing. Seeing and
hearing her complain about a perfectly heathy body is something else entirely.
One is good, one is not.
I do not want
to make them unhappy maniacs. I do not want them to back up to the mirror with
self-loathing. I do not want them to waste the joys of this life obsessing over
what was, or trying to be someone they are not.
What has my step counter done for me? It has made me painfully aware
that I am being watched, studied and imitated. Do I need my 18 yr old body to
be my legacy to the young women I am raising?
No.
I want to pass on health, joy, acceptance,
faith, compassion, love and laughter.
I want to reflect all of that, every day,
for they are my mirror.
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