I remember the first time I wasn’t aware of my body.

For years, it’s all I was aware of. I knew exactly how far my stomach was sticking out. I knew how big my arms looked if they were touching my sides. I knew how big my thighs were if I was sitting down. And I truly felt like everyone else was this aware of my body, too- and just as disgusted.

The more I dieted and worked out to try and make it stop- make myself invisible but also coveted (that dichotomy is still so strange to me) the more critical of my body I became.

And then one day- it stopped. I got through an entire day without even thinking about what shape my body was.

Then an entire weekend.

And instead of looking at my body or my weight to decide what or how to eat or how long to workout, it just wasn’t even a part of the equation anymore.

And instead of looking at my body to decide how I’d feel that day, I simply decided for myself.

I could be sad if I wanted to be sad and I could be happy if I wanted to be happy and none of it was dictated by the size and shape of my body.

Imagine that.

You get to this place of freedom by trusting your body enough to quit dieting.

You can’t quit dieting until you shed your current identity that’s wrapped up in body looking a particular way or weighing a particular amount.

The more frustrated you are with your body, the more you need to stop dieting. Yet, so many of us do the exact opposite.

Another diet sets you up for more of prison you’re hoping disappears if you just lose enough weight.

But here’s the truth: the harder you diet, the harder your body pushes back. With every diet you start again, you’re setting yourself up for more metabolic pushback. Which will make you diet again- harder. And it will never, ever stop until you stop dieting.

I’ve got better shit to do than to obsess over my body. Don’t you?