What does “body peace & freedom” mean?

When I think about body peace and freedom, I nearly always get wrapped up in negative phrases: not dieting, not hating my body, not caring what diet culture says, not seeing foods as good/bad, not, not not. 

Today I’m going to describe body peace and freedom using positive language. I know what I don’t want. But what am I working toward? 

Food just is. 

Food is joy and fuel and convenient and inconvenient and delicious and boring. 

Food brings me comfort and keeps me alive.

Food is whole, organic, raw, cooked, shelf-stable, processed, and everything in between. Food can heal, food can make me feel sick, and food can be a symbol of the love I show to my people. 

Food tastes better when I’m hungry, and also food is necessary and I often eat it when I’m not hungry because my schedule doesn’t allow for perfect timing. 

I don’t worry about when and how much I eat.

Sometimes a small amount of food is really satisfying, and sometimes I only feel satisfied after a lot of food and feel stuffed. In fact, most of the time I like how it feels to be really full, so I personally don’t enjoy snacking. I like sitting down for big meals. That’s just me. Other people are different.

When I actually think about food (which is not very often), I think about what will: taste good, make me feel good, make me happy, will get me full, will digest well before bed, will give me quick energy, will give me sustained energy, will keep me regular, will make my family happy, will soothe me, will bring nutritional balance, will hit the spot. 

My body just is.

My body moves, my body holds me up and, thanks to some changes in the fashion industry, my body looks badass in a lot of different kinds of clothing. My body gets tired and it gets energized. My body gets sick and my body heals. My body is bigger than some, smaller than some. 

My body is 47 years old and it has the marks and dents and war-wounds and adventure-scars to prove it. My body creaks, cracks and strains. My body loves when I sit and stand up straight. 

My body is happy when I give it love and attention, but mostly it kindly lets me get on with my life without my thinking about it at all. 

I used to think my body caused me pain and sadness because it wasn’t like the other bodies that people call beautiful, but I’ve come to realize that my pain actually came from the culture at large, not my body. 

My body is miraculous. It knows to keep on breathing and beating. It knows how much food, water, air, sleep and sunlight it needs to maintain itself. 

My body is my life, and my body is literally one with every other body, life-form and element on earth. 

My body asks only to be allowed to exist in the world. To be acknowledged as one of many, many bodies. 

One day my body will cease to exist, and I hope on that day I am able to look back and know that I knew my body and loved it well.