Venus Rising

Sandro Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, c. 1486.

My husband and I have two young children and, for several years, we just were not exercising. For a pair who used to run marathons, play rugby, and climb mountains, this was a big life change. But, it was not conscious one. Sure, the thought of getting fit crossed our minds, but that happened rarely—we were simply too busy wiping bums, cleaning up spilled milk, and trying to get two small humans to sleep through the night. Often enough though, it bothered me when I couldn’t fit into pants I’d worn before, or could but questioned whether or not they were too tight. Those moments chipped away at my confidence in my own body, but I trained myself to keep pushing them aside or focus on something else. Getting out of shape is like that—it creeps up on you like a silent cat waiting to pounce. 

One day though, it was time to change. This decision was made for me when my doctor diagnosed me with osteopenia (a precursor to osteoporosis). In order to stimulate new bone growth and keep the condition from getting worse she prescribed weight-bearing exercise four to five times a week. As a mother of two young children running my own business and trying occasionally to sleep, I was overwhelmed. I oscillated between thinking, “this is going to be a good thing, exercise is good for you,” and “oh my god, how am I going to do this?”  The cat had pounced.

It was not easy and it took some getting used to, but now I am working out regularly. I get up around 5:30am to meet a friend for a run, or I work out at the local rec center. Though I get all the lovely endorphine-boosting benefits that go along with it, I realized some of the negative feelings I had about my body persisted right along with me on the treadmill. I am 33-years-old, have given birth twice, and my body simply does not look the same. I have a soft, squishy belly, wrinkles are beginning to appear on my acne-scarred face, and cellulite has taken up permanent residence around my bum.

But, I had an epiphany the other day while I was looking at myself in the mirror. I thought of all the classical artwork I had studied in college and how the women in those paintings were real. Just look at  Titian’s Venus and the Lute Player, William-Adolphe Bouguereau’s Birth of Venus, or Botticelli’s. In fact, just google “Venus Paintings” and you’ll see that they all had lovely round bellies, small breasts, real hips, and knobby knees and they were famous for it. Whom would I rather look like, I thought—those lovely classical beauties or the modern-day ones we manufacture with Photoshop?

My tummy will probably never be flat again no matter how much I work out, because I am older and different, and, damn it, I am a mom. I have decided to make the conscious decision to stop anticipating that it ever will. It makes more room for me to truly enjoy the physical fitness I have achieved, rather then always thinking, “just a little more will do.” As a result, I feel strong, and I am pushing forward and challenging myself. I’m training for a sprint triathlon even though I’ve barely biked before and am a long-time, panicked swimmer. Let the games begin!

I am doing this for myself, but I am also doing it for my kids. Research shows that a parent’s attitude towards fitness¹ and body image² greatly influences the way their children view those same topics. So, mothers and fathers of the world, it is time! Let us take time for ourselves to run with the wind in our hair and get our hearts racing. Show the kids in your life how to kick off their shoes and jump in a pool! Be proud of the experiences that gave you scars and wrinkles, and keep running, because running is awesome.