When left unchecked, I’ve been known to treat my body like a piece of rusty farm equipment. Something over-used that you wouldn’t feel bad throwing rocks at. 

I have a hunch that this tendency to be unkind to one’s own flesh may be genetic.

I come from pioneer stock, men and women who sailed on big creaky boats to America, and those who came after, and crossed the Great Plains in covered wagons, barefoot and pregnant. My people were built to last and could take a beating, and pushed themselves more out of necessity than desire. They were driven. Growing up, when my elders thought I should be working harder, they would tell me,

 “Put your shoulder to the wheel!” 

...which is literally how you get a covered wagon out of the mud.

But, if I’m being honest, the way I have treated my body in the past has more to do with really fucking hating it. Of course, no one ever told me to hate my body, but when you're just a tiny little thing, and told that a certain kind of body is lovable and another is not, and yours decidedly falls into the "not" category, resentment starts to build. 

It isn't fair, you think. 

Every time you look in the mirror, it's a reminder of how far from the mark you fall. You believe there is something inherently wrong with you. I feel comfortable talking about this only because I believe that this sort of mentality is damn near impossible to avoid, and may become even harder to avoid in the future. Many peoples livelihoods depend on you feeling inadequate. 

These beliefs are disempowering because women become slaves to them, spending most of their life trying to fix what isn't even broken, instead of focusing on what they are capable of creating. 

Extinguishing these damaging beliefs is hard work. (They are really, really deeply ingrained.) But it is something that we all must do, both individually and collectively if we want to extinguish them.