The diet and fitness industry thrives on selling the dream of quickly turning our flabby “before” selves into chiseled “after” specimens. Depriving myself of foods I enjoy or enduring exercise I hated were simply the price of the transformation I sought. Yet after completing any number of diet and exercise programs, I would always poke at the soft places on my newly-thinner body, tell myself “you still look like a ‘before’ picture”, and the cycle would begin again.  

 
Everything changed when I stopped trying to whittle my body down to fit an impossible ideal look, and instead focused on expanding the possibilities for what it can do. I’m not talking about “strong is the new skinny” fitspo bullshit, where strength is only valued in women who are also skinny, and not so muscular as to be threatening to the average gym bro. I’m talking about approaching fitness as an adventure where I discover what my body is capable of, rather than a punishment for falling short of an arbitrary aesthetic standard. 

Here is a picture of me squatting. My squat is my weakest lift and the one I’ve worked hardest to improve. Two years ago I would’ve recoiled from the cellulite and the sheer size of my thighs and resolved to never wear shorts until I lost ten pounds. But when I look at this picture I see an upper back made straight and strong through months of dedicated work. I see balance and poise under a weight I would have been afraid to unrack last year. My body is becoming a physical representation of the work I’ve done, of the hours I’ve spent with the iron in my hands, and I find beauty in that even though I’ll never look like a fitness model. When I look at the calluses on my hands and curve of my shoulders and the heft of my thighs, I see dedication and power and perseverance. I see a body that can do things that were impossible last year; the dimples and flab that used to bother me so much hardly register anymore. I’ve let go of “before” and “after” and am learning to embrace my “during”. Yes, I want to get stronger and leaner and tighter, but there’s no endpoint I’m working toward. I’m learning to find contentment in the pursuit of my goals, and that self-love and a sense of accomplishment can come from the journey, not just the destination. I’m done with enduring periods of deprivation in pursuit of an “after”, and with berating myself for looking like a “before” picture, because my body and the present moment are deserving of being appreciated and enjoyed as they are. Today. During.