Like many women, I’ve had a love/hate relationship with my body pretty much my entire life. And, also like many women, the “love” part is more focused on certain areas while the “hate” is more directed at others--in my case, my belly. My stomach and I have what I’d call not so much a “love/hate” relationship, but a “hate a lot/hate-a-little-less-at-times” dynamic. With the exception of an eight pound twelve ounce miracle, my gut has given me nothing but problems.
Part of our complicated relationship comes from external factors--I’ve always struggled with carrying weight there and, no matter how clean I eat or how hard I exercise, I’m just not genetically inclined to have a flat tummy or skinny waist. But part of it also comes from internal factors--the battles with digestive issues and the fact that this has always seemed to be the home of my anxiety and sadness. I know it’s all interconnected.
But, for all the grief it’s given me, I also respect my gut for never steering me wrong. So much of the difficulty it’s given me has been, I think, its attempt to not so much steer me in the right direction, but guide me away from what’s wrong. I can lie to myself--convince myself--all day long in my mind, but when I’m going down the wrong path, my stomach’s always the first to let me know. It’s very mouthy. It speaks up with every symptom it can until it has my attention. I guess this is why we call it “following our gut”.
This is 40
My whole life I've dreamed of writing a memoir, though I was never quite sure how it might take shape. In 2020, amidst the Coronavirus pandemic, I turned 40 and the idea was born. It felt less like a bolt of lightning and more like a sure knowing that this was the right idea and the right time.
Do you have some feedback for me about 40? I'd love to hear it! Praise or constructive criticism will help as I compile these stories into a book. Drop a DM or email below--your input is appreciated!