Girls gone wild chelsea4/22/2024 I saw the world through a different lens. Instead, I could do burpees, hike mountains, and even carry my sleeping ten-year-old child upstairs. I wasn’t perfect, and the more I looked around, no one else was either. I was the same lanky girl with unexpected cellulite, but this time, none of that bothered me. I had re-attached my wings of confidence and FLEW from the nest that was holding me back. I pulled my shoulders back and started to walk a little faster…and faster…and faster. It was exactly the way I left it in the chair. What’s the worst thing that can happen….really? What if I walk funny because I’m nervous? My mind ran wild in preparation for my first steps. I can remember the day I decided to surrender. The golden answer to “happiness” isn’t actually the answer at all? Unsubscribe me. I saw a glimpse into an underground world of self-inflicted suffering. It turns out, you can be any shape, size, or color to have negative thoughts. Being thin came with expectations of how I should view my body. I was mind blown, likely the same way others looked at me. Bodybuilders and models who had “the perfect body” picked themselves apart before walking on stage or being in front of a camera. That, the women who I assumed could and would fully appreciate themselves also lacked confidence. The more I talked to other women, the more I realized that I wasn’t alone. Burn Boot Camp taught me to embrace and fully love myself…even after Taco Tuesday. It was about giving myself the space to believe that I was worth more than a skinny body that never seemed skinny enough. It was about conquering my fears and feeling proud of myself. I learned with time that being skinny wasn’t what I was looking for, rather, it was about being healthy and mobile. My own standards had become buried and the lens in which I saw myself chipped away at my self-confidence.įast forward to the making of a fit journey that came with a million failures, celebrations, struggles, and accomplishments. I had placed my value in the hands of beauty standards. I had what others wanted and so I never felt like I had permission to feel the way I felt instead, I felt shame and a growing discomfort in my own skin. Even as a “skinny girl,” I wished for more. I cared so much, I lost sight of the one voice that mattered. I was self-conscious, insecure and gave far too many F’s what others thought of me. I would be the one glued to the chair and careful to slither into my clothes to walk a few steps. I used to have anxiety about wearing a bathing suit.
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