Why I’m not doing the 10 year challenge
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I’m not doing this 10 year challenge thing. The reason is because, 10 years ago…
I was slim.
Tiny actually.
My skin wasn’t tired.
My eyes were bright.
The world was a beautifully toxic place in both my imagination and reality.
10 years ago I didn’t have boobs that hit my bellybutton on the reg, and my arms were devoid of bingo wings.
10 years ago my hair was long, my boobs were perky, I had no stretch marks, and yes, believe it or not there was a time when I had a flat stomach and I didn’t even work out for the
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privilege. I know right, what a lucky bitch.
I ate what I wanted, drank what I wanted and told the world to get proverbially fucked.
But 10 years ago I wasn’t lucky, I was miserable.
My heart was empty, battered and regularly broken and I abused my body for fun. I allowed others to abuse me too and I went back for more because I didn’t know any better.
10 years ago I had shit eyebrows, and my temper was sadistic.
10 years ago I was what some might say, quite vile.
I drank often, regularly becoming Mrs Hyde and drugs
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were an easy oblivion.
I didn’t want kids, I didn’t even like them and whilst I still don’t get broody or fill up these days, I’m only too aware of their blessings now I’m someone’s mum.
So whilst aesthetically I had a lot to be proud of, if you knew me then you probably wouldn’t of liked me either and that would of just reinforced my self loathing.
The flat stomach devoid of stretch marks hadn’t housed my child, the desperate and easily influenced drama queen of 10 years ago didn’t know remorse.
She often had physical
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fights.
She didn’t appreciate the small things in life, and in turn she wasn’t appreciated for the small things she had to offer.
10 years ago, I didn’t even like me.
Whilst Im fatter, flabbier, wrinklier and saggier now, I’m also happier and kinder, there’s a lot to be said about happiness. Sometimes a smile far outweighs good looks and small waist. And whilst I wouldn’t mind looking 10 years younger, I certainly have no desire to BE 10 years younger.
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Diva Mum - 15 Jan 19
I’m not doing this 10 year challenge thing. The reason is because, 10 years ago…
I was slim.
Tiny actually.
My skin wasn’t tired.
My eyes were bright.
The world was a beautifully toxic place in both my imagination and reality.
10 years ago I didn’t have boobs that hit my bellybutton on the reg, and my arms were devoid of bingo wings.
10 years ago my hair was long, my boobs were perky, I had no stretch marks, and yes, believe it or not there was a time when I had a flat stomach and I didn’t even work out for the privilege. I know right, what a lucky bitch.
I ate what I wanted, drank what I wanted and told the world to get proverbially fucked.
But 10 years ago I wasn’t lucky, I was miserable.
My heart was empty, battered and regularly broken and I abused my body for fun. I allowed others to abuse me too and I went back for more because I didn’t know any better.
10 years ago I had shit eyebrows, and my temper was sadistic.
10 years ago I was what some might say, quite vile.
I drank often, regularly becoming Mrs Hyde and drugs were an easy oblivion.
I didn’t want kids, I didn’t even like them and whilst I still don’t get broody or fill up these days, I’m only too aware of their blessings now I’m someone’s mum.
So whilst aesthetically I had a lot to be proud of, if you knew me then you probably wouldn’t of liked me either and that would of just reinforced my self loathing.
The flat stomach devoid of stretch marks hadn’t housed my child, the desperate and easily influenced drama queen of 10 years ago didn’t know remorse.
She often had physical fights.
She didn’t appreciate the small things in life, and in turn she wasn’t appreciated for the small things she had to offer.
10 years ago, I didn’t even like me.
Whilst Im fatter, flabbier, wrinklier and saggier now, I’m also happier and kinder, there’s a lot to be said about happiness. Sometimes a smile far outweighs good looks and small waist. And whilst I wouldn’t mind looking 10 years younger, I certainly have no desire to BE 10 years younger.
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31 year old, over thinker, tea drinker, over sharer & over swearer. Loves: my child (obviously) moaning, beach walks, tea and writing!
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