My Body is a Temple. I have heard this before in church many times. On Sunday it was discussed again at church. During the service, my husband kept tapping me on the arm. "He's talking about you...", he would say.
Yes, my whole life I have struggling with self image issues. I've usually been pretty content with my weight (until I get pregnant), but it has always been my skin that seems to be from some sort of alien being. My "blemishes" as I like to refer to them, have been mild through school, but become completely unmanageable when I am pregnant. My face literally hurts from the monstrosities that permeate my pores all over. And, it gets 10 times worse after my children are born, which in vain, I stop breastfeeding after two months and go on antibiotics and cremes from my dermatologist to try and speed up the recovery of my war beaten face. But then, guilt comes pouring over me because I tell myself my kids are more important and I should have nursed them longer and for my own selfish reasons, I did not.
Society does not help at all, but mostly I blame myself. My husband could not care less what mountains may appear on my body, so why do I? Because I am the one that has to feel it, see it up close, and I have a mind that wanders, "Are they looking right at it???" How annoying.
But my body is temple and I am fearfully and wonderfully made, right? Right. God knows something I don't know, and I should be thankful that I am alive and well. And boy, that 2 1/2 year old and 10 1/2 month old were totally worth it, and so is the one en utero! Thank you God!
Yes, my whole life I have struggling with self image issues. I've usually been pretty content with my weight (until I get pregnant), but it has always been my skin that seems to be from some sort of alien being. My "blemishes" as I like to refer to them, have been mild through school, but become completely unmanageable when I am pregnant. My face literally hurts from the monstrosities that permeate my pores all over. And, it gets 10 times worse after my children are born, which in vain, I stop breastfeeding after two months and go on antibiotics and cremes from my dermatologist to try and speed up the recovery of my war beaten face. But then, guilt comes pouring over me because I tell myself my kids are more important and I should have nursed them longer and for my own selfish reasons, I did not.
Society does not help at all, but mostly I blame myself. My husband could not care less what mountains may appear on my body, so why do I? Because I am the one that has to feel it, see it up close, and I have a mind that wanders, "Are they looking right at it???" How annoying.
But my body is temple and I am fearfully and wonderfully made, right? Right. God knows something I don't know, and I should be thankful that I am alive and well. And boy, that 2 1/2 year old and 10 1/2 month old were totally worth it, and so is the one en utero! Thank you God!
Comments