A Story About Short Shorts
This morning, on Day 13 of staying at home during the COVID-19 outbreak, I’d like to share a story with you about a very special pair of short shorts. It’s a bit of a long one, but there’s a happy ending waiting for you if you read all the way through.
I hiked most of the Pacific Crest Trail in a pair of $5 mesh basketball shorts I found at the Family Dollar in Mojave, California. I loved this pair of hot-pink-and-black shorts, because honestly, I felt kind-of like a superhero in them.
I’ll never forget the wildland firefighter I met on the trail in southern Oregon, covered head-to-toe in heavyweight protective gear, who remarked wistfully, “Wish I had some shorts like those.”
Those shorts were particularly noteworthy for me because, during the 15 years leading up to my thru-hike, I refused to wear shorts. Convinced I didn’t have the right kind of legs for shorts, I insisted on wearing capris and long pants (yes, even in hot weather).
So, picture this. Four PCT thru-hikers on a steep hillside, late one morning in September, in Washington’s Norse Peak Wilderness. (Side note: Find out how to visit this stunning wilderness area near Mount Rainier in my guidebook.)
After trudging through thick fog and freezing rain for two days, the clouds parted and sun began to stream onto the golden slope we traversed. Overjoyed, we stopped to air out our wet gear in the sun.
I peeled off my wet leggings, wrung them out like a towel, and slipped into my trusty, lovable short shorts. A friend snapped a picture of the sunny scene just as I was bending over my tent to spread it out across the grass.
Later that evening, as we reflected on what a special moment that sunbreak had been, my friend passed around his phone to show us the picture he’d taken.
When I saw it, I freaked out. My face flushed hot. Mortified, I squealed and begged, “Please don’t share that picture anywhere. Ugh! I don’t like it! Delete it, please!”
You see, friend, I’d zoomed in on my thighs in the picture, and as I bent over my tent, the sun illuminated the back of my legs. A patch of cellulite was apparent in the photo. I was horrified.
My friends were perplexed. “What are you talking about? It’s a great photo.” Eventually they shrugged and agreed not to post the picture online, but they couldn’t understand what I was so upset about.
Ok, freeze-frame. There were like 18 things to be grateful for/excited about/proud of in that particular moment in time...not the least of which was that those dimpled thighs had carried me across three states, over dozens of mountain passes, and through hundreds of miles of wilderness.
But, poof! In one painful moment of needless self-judgement, my superhero vanished, washed away by a wave of shame and embarrassment.
Can you relate, sister?
Can you think of a time when your own judgemental thoughts about your body have ripped you away from a moment of connection with people you love? When you feared that your cellulite (or stretch marks, or belly roll, or double chin) was showing? When that fear prevented you from being fully present in an otherwise magical moment?
If so, let me ask you this.
If you weren’t worried about what your body looked like, what could you focus on instead? Because now more than ever, your focus is desperately needed elsewhere.
The world is hurting. In this unprecedented time in our planet’s history, your energy and attention are needed for acts of love, kindness, connection, and compassion...including acts of unconditional love for yourself and your body.
You have so much to be proud of. Your body deserves your respect, acceptance, admiration, and adoration regardless of what it looks like.
Will you make a choice today to appreciate your body—cellulite, belly rolls, stretch marks and all? Are you willing to suspend your harsh judgements and instead celebrate how amazing your body really is?
I know it can feel overwhelming—impossible even—to make this kind of a change in your thinking, but you don’t have to figure it out on your own. In Food Freedom 101, I’m teaching actionable, feel-good tools and practices to help you make the shift from being your own worst critic to your own very best friend.
So, as promised, here’s the happy ending. Five years later, I still have those magical shorts, I still love them, and I even still wear them sometimes (although, I’ll be honest, they’re a bit snug these days)! I care 0% what my legs look like when I wear them or what anyone else might think of my legs. I wear those shorts because they feel good and that’s all that matters to me.
You can make this shift too, my friend. You can build unshakable confidence in yourself and your body to free up every ounce of your precious energy for the things that matter most to you. If you’re curious about where to start, simply comment below to connect with me.