Cut forward to a little over a year, and more than a few nights spent in pursuit of nothing more than Netflix marathons, a rotating diet of takeout food, and bottles upon bottles of wine, and I have gained over 90 pounds.
Most of us typically walk around anywhere from 5 to 15 pounds over our fighting weight, so in the weeks leading up to a fight, almost everyone has to change their diet, up their cardio, hit the steam room, and weigh themselves with a regularity bordering on obsession.
A blogger in Oklahoma City recently lost her job for calling a cheerleader "chunky" in a post. Meanwhile, an ESPN reporter declares newly out NBA player Jason Collins to be an "open rebellion to God" as a gay man.
Tina Fey recently said that she won't talk crap about her own body in front of her daughters because she doesn't want to set a bad example. I wonder if my mom did the same thing, but now that I've grown up, she no longer has to maintain the illusion.
I don’t think people are thankful enough. And I don’t think women, especially are thankful enough for our bodies. So I’m going to take a moment here, before the mindless ecstasy of stuffing and gravy, to notice what I’m thankful for about my body.