I exercised today. For thirty minutes, I rode the stationary bike and watched American Pickers.
Sometimes I forget that I’m recovering from an eating disorder until I’m able to do things like this. It may seem like a stupid accomplishment, but for me, it signified a mini-victory. I didn’t ride until I threw up, I didn’t hurt myself, and I didn’t push too far. I didn’t picture Victoria’s Secret models and curse my body as I worked up a healthy sweat.
It’s too early to blare the sirens of success. I haven’t established a pattern; this is only my first time. But the inkling of hope will cheer me on as I attempt to ride again tomorrow.
Now I am not exercising for a smaller jean size or a slimmer waist. I am not trying to disappear.
I want to strengthen my muscles. Watch me light a fire within my body and lift my wings towards the sky.
2014 just might be the year of the woman.