A little over a year ago, in February 2017, I undertook a self-directed “get healthy” initiative. Exhausted from the ineffectual efforts I had made on doctor’s advice and heart-sick from not recognizing myself in the mirror for so many years, I decided – as the person who knows my own body best – to take everything I’d been TOLD to do, and chuck it in the bin.
Starting fresh, I researched a few basic things (calories, metabolism, sleep cycles, genetic indicators, etc) and figured out a strategy for incorporating sustainable changes into my lifestyle. I didn’t force myself into an unsuitable exercise routine or “go on a diet.” I didn’t even utilize a scale. (The first time I weighed myself was eight months in; at that point I’d lost 25 pounds.) (I’ve now lost a total of 45.) When it came to monitoring my progress, I simply tracked how I felt.
It worked.
About six weeks into my self-improvement project, I took this photo. Posted along with select lyrics from the Divinyls’ song I Touch Myself —
I search myself, I want you to find me
I forget myself, I want you to remind me
— it was a touchstone. A placeholder.
I was searching for myself.
Not in a clichéd frou-frou way.
I was trying to find my ‘self’ in the mirror.
Taken on a day I felt good about the changes I was making, I wanted something positive – something concrete – that I could look back on. I didn’t specifically have ‘future comparison’ in mind when I took that photo of my ghost-ish reflection a year ago. I just knew I was off to a good start, and in a good place mentally, when I snapped the shutter.
Last week, I was reaching for my lotion after my shower and caught sight of myself in the mirror. The ‘reaching hand’ tableau I saw in my reflection reminded me of that touchstone photo I’d taken, and I decided to snap another.
I love my husband’s body.
It’s freckled and fair and lean and long and so.fucking.responsive.
If asked, I’d be hard pressed to pick my favorite part of his form. But there is one particular grouping of muscles, in his lower abdomen, of which I am particularly fond.
I call them his Fuck Muscles.