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?
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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