The Battle of Beauty

I battle many things:
My kids when they want their own way.
My husband when we don't see eye to eye.
My parents when they don't agree with our parenting.
The customer service rep who may be wrong when I'm trying to correct a situation or bill.
Those are not daily battles but occasional ones.
There is one battle that I do fight daily, though. Multiple times throughout the day, even. I hate warring with this person because I know her so well and am hardest on her.
Me.
Mainly, my reflection.
For years I have struggled with low self-esteem and image. In junior high I had thick eyebrows and noticeable upper lip hair. Thankfully, my mom became an aesthetician while I was in high school and I now have my eyebrows and upper lip waxed (I'm not ashamed to admit it anymore.)
In high school, I was tall and thin with horrible posture (still suffer the bad posture.) I had a body built like a boy's with no curves. I was so thin that I had to gain weight just to donate blood when I turned 18. I wasn't healthy or athletic; I just had genes that allowed me to eat what I wanted and not gain weight. I also was a busy person between school and work and extracurricular school activities.
Then I went to college and quickly (as in first semester) put on about 10 pounds. I didn't go to a party school, though, and it wasn't weight from alcohol. It was the freedom of finding I could eat whatever I wanted because Mom wasn't there. Pop-Tarts for a quick dinner in the dorm room? Oh, yeah. College cafeteria food? Bring it on with ranch dressing. Dessert for lunch and dinner? I'll take 2 of those chocolate chip cookies with some ice cream in the middle, thank you.
I lost most of the weight a few years later when I realized I was going to be walking down an aisle in front of lots of people in my dream dress. We went on a cruise for our honeymoon and I think it came back on during that week.
I can remember a friend commenting to me once, before I was even pregnant with Noah, about how I had a little roll that hadn't been there before. Maybe that's what really started drawing my attention to my self-image as my esteem rolled away. I thought, If I can't hide it with clothes, I must really be looking chunky.
The thing is, though, I love to eat. And I hate to exercise. This is a not-so-good combination as you can see.
It also doesn't help that I have a husband who loves me no matter what size I am and also admitted to me recently that he likes the fact I'm curvier now than before I had kids. Where's the motivation to lose weight when your love handles become lovable? (Please don't misunderstand, though, I would never want to suffer the emotional abuse some women suffer from their husbands because of weight gain.)
I, on the other hand, am hard on myself and don't love or even like the love handles. I can't accept that the pudge around the belly. Yet at the same time, I know that I'm not at an unhealthy weight. I'm still within the range for healthy for my height, it's just not the weight I want to be at.
Because for some reason there is something in me that just won't give it up.
Obviously, I know this comes down to be a sin issue. It is made up of so many components. Part of it comes down to self-discipline. Why eat 1 Milano cookie when you can eat 5 in the cute little paper holder they rest on in the bag? Or the whole bag?
I think food is an idol for me. Emotional eater? I am. Happy? Celebrate with food. Sad? Grieve with food. Frustrated? Clean the kitchen. OK, so I guess I'm not actually eating during that one. Although I wouldn't be surprised if I end up hungry after cleaning the kitchen. Where I should be going first to the Lord in prayer, I go to the cabinet.
I can even admit these things - so why is it so hard to change?
I have beautiful friends. I feel frumpy. (That could partly be due to lack of fashion sense, though.) Some are thin and willowy even after having multiple children. My sister-in-law is a stick. I try to tell myself it's because she runs more miles than I drive in a week. That part about the distance probably isn't entirely true, but she does run and exercise consistently. Naturally, that would help with weight loss and maintenance.
I have been so hard on myself that I was in tears, sobbing, recently after Tim commented to me that I looked beautiful that day. It was like a dam burst open and I just couldn't accept what he was saying even though it wasn't something he hadn't said before. I think it just hit me on a different note that day. Have you ever truly felt a war in your mind? At that moment I felt these two opposing forces smacking into each other and it was like truth was trying to break free and I wouldn't unlock the cage. That's when I really realized my problem was more serious than I wanted to accept.
We have a large oval mirror in the bathroom. I asked Tim if he minded if I wrote Scripture on it with a dry-erase marker, to which he, of course, agreed. Now when I look in the mirror I am greeted with Provers 31:30:

Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

You see, I don't want my motivation to exercise to be losing weight to fit a certain size. I want it to be a way for me to be healthy. That goes for wise food choices as well. If I feel like junk after eating certain sweets, then I should take that into consideration and not eat it again. If I feel good after eating something healthy, I need to remember that.
I always feel good after exercising. I hate when I am in the moment, but I love the adrenaline rush and energy that comes later. I love feeling like I accomplished something good for me.
I don't want to spend a long time in front of the bathroom mirror preparing myself for the day. And, honestly, I don't do that now. My routine, shower included, is about half an hour if that means I'm actually doing my hair and make-up. I don't wear much make-up beyond mascara, concealer and occasionally eye shadow so it doesn't take me long.
I want that reminder, though, when I stop in the bathroom, of where true beauty lies. I need that reminder. It's too easy for me to turn sideways in the mirror and suck in my gut to see what I could look like.
The other thing I have been surprised, pleasantly, with is that the kids always ask us what the writing on the mirror says when we are in there with them brushing our teeth or washing hands or giving them baths. So Tim and I read it to them repeatedly every day to the point where I think Noah is starting to memorize it. I realized that this is something important for them to hear, especially Ellie, who - as a girl who will grow into a woman - will probably struggle with herself one day. If she is getting this reminded to her starting at the age of 2 years old, maybe she'll be more confident in herself at twelve or twenty-two or thirty than I am. It also can be a lesson for Noah on what to look for one day in a future wife.
I fight my battle every day. However, I have found my Sword and am starting to pick at the lock on the cage to set the beauty truth free.