Body image; but married this time

If you’ve been following my journey for a couple of years, you might remember a phase when I started a fitness Instagram account, using pictures and words as a combined medium to share my struggles with body image, health and fitness, and disordered eating. My last post was over two years ago, sharing about how there’s no such thing as “before” and “after” pictures of our bodies. There are only “during” pictures, as our bodies and minds are both always changing. My current “during” season is in the context of a baby marriage…just three months in, and I’m surprised by how much has been new, but also by how much has remained the same. 

During my engagement this spring, I anxiously worked to achieve the best possible physique for my wedding. I spent hours in the gym, justifying it by bringing my phone with me so that I could work on wedding things as I burned some calories. I worked hard to control my dietary intake, doing my best to eat “clean” and cut out sugar. I felt immense pressure during my engagement to heal or “fix” my binge tendencies, ashamed, but seemingly unable to shake my desire to hide my consumption of foods that I deemed unhealthy.

This was not my first attempt to regain control over my body and mind with food and exercise, but this time felt a little more pressed, as I had a specific “after” date in mind: June 29, 2024. By my wedding date, I wanted to be my slimmest and strongest self, and mentally free from compulsive thoughts surrounding body consciousness and food intake. I was terrified that I would bring these tendencies and battles into my marriage. I wanted to figure it all out before I got married and moved in with the man whose attraction to me felt life and death important. 

And now here I am, three months into marriage, painfully aware that my wrestle with body image and food choices was not conquered during engagement. 

These last few months, I’ve still had moments of anxiety and insecurity about missing a day at the gym, or about allowing sugar to re-enter my diet. I’ve distracted myself during innocent lunch dates with my husband by silently googling how many calories are in a Chik-Fil-A milkshake. I’ve rushed to put away an after-work snack before my husband gets home so that he doesn’t know that I ate something. I’ve looked down at my rubber ring at the gym, realizing that so much of my motivation at the gym was about my sexual appeal, sometimes more so than being about how I felt or how I thought I looked. I’ve had moments where I have to put my head down or move to another part of the gym because I don’t want to fall into the temptation of seeking anyone’s eyes but my husband’s. I’ve had moments where I have to remind myself that I shouldn’t go to the gym to get attention, or out of guilt, fear, or shame. These are old, ugly thoughts, that I was hoping would just vanish with the presence of a ring on my finger and a new last name. And yet they linger, and I want to continuously put effort into rerouting these deep thought ruts.

Four years ago, I got a tattoo that reads: “masterpiece of anatomy.” I got this tattoo to remind myself that people go to school for years and years to study the human body and how it works, and I just get to exist in it! My body is more than a visual masterpiece, but it’s an internal masterpiece for all that it does to keep me alive. It allows me to live embodied in this beautiful world. The legs that I might think are too large and long, carry me into the mountains that fill my soul with joy. The stomach that I wish was slimmer, carries the miraculous ability to turn delicious food into energy, and preserves my ability to someday (hopefully) carry and nurture a child as well. 

As beautiful as the meaning behind this tattoo is and always will be for me, I’m having to relearn the phrase “masterpiece of anatomy” in the context marriage. While some women joke about embracing marriage as an opportunity to let loose and gain some weight, I’m still terrified of that. My husband has done an incredible job of loving me regardless of my appearance, and reminds me nearly daily that I have full permission to eat what I want. And by God’s grace, I have experienced so much healing and freedom in this area, and Matt has played such a sweet role in that. While there is still more healing to be had, I am so grateful for pieces of my heart that He has knit back together. 

In closing, I want to point my eyes and yours to our Savior, with words from Ecclesiastes 3:11, “He has made everything beautiful in its time.” While the beginning months of marriage might carry the familiar twinge of body insecurity and food anxiety, I am trusting that He can and will someday turn this struggle too, into something beautiful.