Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

The words we say about ourselves are powerful. Not only do they impact us, but they also influence the way others think about themselves and process their world.

My mom always hated her body, and she made that very clear while I was growing up. Little did I know, I was soaking up those same thoughts and turning them to myself. As I got older, I started to have destructive thoughts about my own body.

As a college student, I struggled with an eating disorder. I saw my body as the enemy. I saw food as something that couldn’t be trusted but could be mastered. Instead, it quickly mastered me. My thoughts were consumed with limiting my food intake. My thoughts were consumed with spending enough time in the gym to work off the little bit I did eat in a day. It was a dangerous spiral.

RELATED: My Eating Disorder Began Before I Was Born

I’m not going to blame my mom for my eating disorder. I know it’s on me. It developed because of the choices I made and the fears I had about being loved and accepted. It continued to grow because of my need for control when the rest of the world felt out of my control. It came from a lot of things.

I do wish my mom would have helped cultivate love and care for our bodies. I wish she conveyed the power of a woman’s body and the incredible miracle that she’s able to carry children. I wish she lived a healthier lifestyle instead of complaining about her changing body.

As soon as I knew I was having girls, I promised myself they would never hear me shame my body. I promised myself I would set a better example of how to talk about a woman’s body.

RELATED: Why I Stopped Criticizing My Body in Front of My Daughter

I will not joke about jiggly bellies the way my mom did. I will not blame my changing body on having children the way my mom did. I will not shame my body the way my mom did.

My children will not hear such hateful things come out of my mouth. I know I can’t protect them from the negative comments the world makes about women’s bodies, but I will not contribute to it.

I will show them the beauty of this body that God created to do incredible things.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

Loving My Body is a Struggle

In: Living

I became a teenager in the ’90s. Where the models were stick-thin. Curves were disgusting. Boobs were shameful. And anything over a Size 2 was a disgrace. Then the 2000s brought tall, glamorous, thin Victoria’s Secret models that told me tan, tall, and D-cup was desired. RELATED: Powerful Dove Ad Exposes How Social Media Beauty is Harming Our Girls Now at 38, I see how toxic my relationship with my body is. I see young women today embracing their bodies. All the shapes and sizes. I am baffled how they can be so comfortable in their skin. Then I see...

Keep Reading

I Want a Body That Tells the Truth

In: Living, Motherhood
Woman on the beach

I’ve decided I don’t want a body that lies. I’m going to embrace a body that tells the truth.  I want a body that tells the truth about what it looks like to be a woman. I want a body that shows what it really looks like to be a mother, an athlete, a wife, a person with some wisdom and perspective. I carry extra weight around my hips and have stretch marks from carrying two baby girls. My left bicep is more defined than my right bicep. That’s from packing an infant on my hip, allowing my dominant hand...

Keep Reading

Dear Body, I’m Sorry I Haven’t Treated You Well

In: Living, Motherhood
Woman in hot tub looking out window

Dear body, I’m sorry I haven’t treated you well. After everything you’ve done for me, you would think I’d be a bit more grateful. From running and playing as a child to being on the track team in high school, to carrying three babies, conquering cancer, and more—I should be thanking you. But instead, I’m mostly ashamed of you. I’m embarrassed to try on new clothes in a fitting room because I honestly don’t know what size I am anymore. Having to ask for a larger size of something is a kind of torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Trying...

Keep Reading