Guys. We have to talk about something very important: Body image.
And before you start getting overly concerned about how I feel about my own body image, ask me what was the first thing I did after getting home from work.
I’ll tell you. I ate the biggest cookie in my house. My only regret, not enough chocolate. Or salt. Or chocolate.
With that being said, let’s chat.
Body image, positive or negative, is a real thing. And Satan will really try to get you distracted from the sacred work you have been called to in any way he can.
We will all learn one presumably painful way or another the simple truth that Satan doesn’t love us. And take it from me that he will use your self-esteem as a way to distract you from listening to the spirit.
I’ve always struggled with loving my body.
And just so you believe me, let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time today I woke up late, braided back my bangs, threw my day old hair into a pony tail and walked out the door without a stitch of makeup on my face, looking slightly reminiscent of a character from your nightmares you would call, “The Dragon Lady.”
I checked my Twitter feed while on the way to work and saw post after post debating whether or not fashionistas should wear white after Labor Day. Looking down at today’s selection of white denim I decided to skip this debate all together.
But it was leaving work that was the climax of my anti-covergirl day.
Let me first explain one universal truth. The overarching difference between print journalism and broadcast journalism is measured in the amount of makeup applied. #broadcastequalsbeauty
I waited for the elevator with probably five of the most beautiful women that work in the building, who were all somehow breathing advertisements for J. Crew and The Limited. I stood in all my makeup-less, messy hair, white jean glory.
I couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “Oh, your cardigan matches the frosting on the cake I ate yesterday.”
Opting for silence, I rode five floors down trying to love myself.
But it didn’t work. I immediately had an attack of the “not enoughs.”
Not thin enough.
Not pretty enough.
Not fashionable enough.
Not rich enough.
Not good enough.
And it wasn’t until I started writing this post in my head that I realized the foolishness of those thoughts. Because guess what? Each and every one of them are lies. Written by the author and the finisher of our DOUBT.
Satan DOES NOT LOVE YOU.
He will trick you and fool you.
I’ve been there. I had moments of my mission that would have been better spent listening to the spirit. Instead it was spent listening to the lies that my body just wasn’t good enough. And I regret every second of it.
You will probably gain weight on your mission.
1. Stop stressing.
2. Keep loving yourself. Think about what you’re doing! You are bring salvation to your brothers and sisters! You should love yourself for eternity for that.
3. Eat smaller portions. I first lived by the principle that I would eat whatever someone gave me. That was pretty dumb. Eat smart, be kind, but don’t kill yourself.
4. Exercise. Really put your effort into that 30 minutes of exercise. For the most part, mine was pretty pathetic and consisted of girly push-ups and stretches with the lame band they give you at the MTC. The times I actually went running were when I felt the greatest, thank you, Sister Davidson.
5. Love yourself. I can’t emphasize this enough.
6. Push out the negative and focus on the positive. Maybe this sounds a little too hippie/new age for you. Get over it. It’s a real thing.
Common sense, right? Then do it.
Missionaries come in all shapes and sizes. Don’t let the outside distract you from what shines from within.
That is what God uses to touch the hearts of his children. Your body is the instrument for your spirit, your testimony, your soul. Love it. Treat it kindly. Respect it.
And remember. You are beautiful.
Even if a lady cuts your bangs real bad and one side is an inch longer than the other.
Or if you have to fight with a spear. Totem spirit fox.
Even if you get a bug in your eye while tracting. #nature
Or if you have to wear a shirt from 1973. Yes, those are camels and donkeys.
Or hold a presumably very dirty chicken.
Even if you’re not Wolverine. Or a pilot. And you have a mullet.
And your best friend has a mullet too.
Even if the thug life accidentally chose you.
Even if it’s 5 degrees in November.
Or everyone had a mouth the size of Texas. Including baby angels.
Well, okay. Maybe not this.
Even if you have a mustache.
Even if you didn’t know it wasn’t cool to wear huge ugly flowers on your head.
Or every boy thought you were gross.
Or you still didn’t get the memo about that flower.
Even if your hair froze when you were tracting.
Or a cat attacks you at a local thrift store.
Or you spill all the soup.
Even if you can’t pull the sword out of the stone.
Or you get a concussion and forget who you are for a minute.
Even if your best friend is an alpaca who also has a mullet.
And even if your face tragically gets stuck like this.
Yes, Sister, even if you have to wear these shoes every day of eternity.
YOU. ARE. BEAUTIFUL.
Because you have been called of God.
Now go preach it, Sister.
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