How I Learned To Love my Body

We hear it all the time: “Love your body.” “You’re perfect just as you are.” It’s well-meaning advice, and for those of us who have spent years trapped in the cycle of diet culture, those words can feel like a glimmer of hope. But for many of us, it’s not enough.

We want to believe it. We try to believe it. But something just doesn’t click.

Telling yourself to love your body when you've spent a lifetime being told your worth is tied to its size or shape feels like trying to climb a mountain with no path.

How do you go from years of self-criticism to loving what you’ve been taught to hate? Where do you even begin when every magazine, every fitness guru, and every commercial is still screaming the same toxic messages at you?

For a good decade of my life, I subscribed to every diet and fitness norm I could find. I was hungry, and not just in the literal sense. I was living malnourished, always chasing the next “solution” to fix what I thought was wrong with my body. Whether it was eliminating entire food groups or punishing myself in the gym for enjoying a slice of pizza, I was locked in a constant battle with myself.

Food was never nourishment—it was either a reward or a punishment. And exercise? It wasn’t about strength or connection. It was purely a tool to disconnect and erase the parts of myself that weren’t allowed.

"Success" in my book was measured by the number on the scale, by how small I could make myself, and by how disciplined I could be in avoiding “bad” foods.

And then I got pregnant. 

It took being forced to physically change to actually start the process of deconstructing all the toxic ideas I had built in my mind. It was the first time in my life I felt permission to relax, to take up space, eat fully and listen to what my body needed. 

 It was the first time it felt socially acceptable.

Because at the time, unless you were pregnant, it wasn’t socially acceptable to just love your body. And even though I was complimented left and right for my growing belly, I was equally bombarded with comments like, “You’ll bounce back,” as if my main concern after creating life was how quickly I could erase the evidence of it.

At first, I brushed it off. But over time, it started to feel wrong—like there was something deeply flawed about a culture that couldn’t even let a new mother embrace her body as it was, with all its changes and power. That’s when I realized I needed to do the hard work of unlearning everything I had been taught. It wasn’t just about “bouncing back” anymore. It was about reclaiming my body and, ultimately, my self-worth.

I understood that if I wanted to feel different, I had to think differently. I spent years deconstructing the beliefs that stood in the way. This meant recognizing every thought pattern that held me back, questioning its origin (Is this idea true? Did it come from family? From the fitness/diet/health/fashion industry?) and reclaiming my truth.

I didn’t have to punish my body for existing. I didn’t have to “earn” food. I didn’t have to suffer to feel “healthy,” and I definitely didn’t need to fit into a specific size to feel worthy. 

I deserved to take up space in this world, to feel energized and strong. 

Through this process I finally learned what it really meant to listen to my body—to respect hunger, to stop associating food with morality, and to move in ways that felt good, not just in ways that burned the most calories. It was uncomfortable at first because I had to let go of control and start trusting my body over the external rules I had clung to for years. 

Learning to love my body wasn’t something I could just declare one day and believe forever. It took—and still takes—practice. I had to work on embracing my body through the fluctuations, the days when I felt bloated or tired or weak. I had to intentionally choose to show myself compassion during those moments and remind myself that my body is not the enemy.

I started to see that I could appreciate my body for more than its appearance. I could love it for the strength it gave me, for the way it heals, for how it carries me through every challenge. I could move away from focusing on the superficial and celebrate the profound ways my body serves me every day.

 I’ve learned to love my body. But I can’t say I’ve reached some final destination of body love because it’s an ongoing process. There are still days when old thoughts creep back in, when I catch myself slipping into old patterns of judgment. But now, instead of letting those thoughts take control, I recognize them for what they are: remnants of a toxic culture that has no place in my life anymore.

Telling yourself to love your body is a good start, but it won’t get you all the way there. It takes time, patience, and a willingness to do the deeper work of unlearning and relearning how to truly honor yourself. 

Step by baby step, we can move closer to a version of ourselves that isn’t defined by external standards, that isn’t ruled by the need to change or shrink or hide. We can move toward a life where we appreciate our bodies for what they are—not just what they look like.

If you’ve been stuck, telling yourself to “love your body” but still feeling like something’s missing, you’re not alone. The path to self-love is messy, and it’s not as simple as repeating a mantra. It’s about doing the real work to deconstruct the beliefs that diet culture has ingrained in us. Moment by moment, day by day. 

And it’s also about compassion, patience, and letting go of the idea that we have to be perfect. Our bodies are worthy of love exactly as they are, even on the days when we don’t feel it yet. So keep showing up, keep questioning the voices of diet culture, and trust that real love for your body is something you can build with time.

💕 Tessa

P.S. If you want to start moving with the intention of appreciating your body instead of punishing it, join me in my free lazy girl challenge to take your first steps toward that mindset shift! 👉Join my free Lazy Girl challenge!