
I pull a denim dress out of my wardrobe, planning on wearing it out to dinner. It’s a go-to, but with the hot, humid weather I haven’t worn it since late spring. Where once it fit like a dream, the buttons now strain at the bust and the hips.
I’ve put on a little weight over December because the bubbles were flowing and the plates were stacked high with delicious ham and creamy potatoes.
I love the December "anything goes" month. That week that runs between Christmas and New Years. All the parties and events. Mimosas on a Wednesday? Why the hell not? Pudding for breakfast? Yes, please. Lying on the couch picking bits of turkey out of a takeaway container at 11pm? We love to see it.
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My exercise routine goes out the window. The most movement I do is rolling into the pool. I sleep in; I stay up late.
But then the new year begins and suddenly whatever I’ve put into my body combined with the movement levels of a sea cucumber has made its mark. The muscles are not so toned. The tummy is a little softer. Hips a little wider, face a little fuller. And that go-to dress a little tighter.
I have been aiming for body neutrality – seeing my body as a vessel, not something that dictates my value or attractiveness – for years now. I’m not there. Not even CLOSE. While we have seemingly moved away from the concept of a "perfect" body, there is still this little voice in my head telling me I need to be fitter, slimmer, have a better butt, have Gwyneth Paltrow biceps.