I was a chubby child, an anorexic teenager, fitness-obsessed in my 20s, and Mama in my 30s. The yoga body with which I entered my 40s quickly expanded to accommodate the grief which would be my predominant emotion for many years.

Now, I’m carried around in a body struggling to get back to the vision I have for myself – athlete, dancer, yogi, lover, lithe agent of change.

I think about the scene from Shrek where the princess anticipates breaking the curse that has turned her into an ogre, but instead is shocked to find that big, green and ugly is her ‘true form’. Luckily, the love of her life desires her just the way she is.

What is my ‘true form’, I ask? Is it this body that I find too soft for my tastes? Is it the memory of my days when everything was smaller, tighter and stronger?

We spend so much time and energy hating our bodies. Especially as women, it’s never quite right, even when it’s pretty darn good.

I am healthy and fit enough to do what the world asks of me physically. But the mirror reveals an unhappy expression, and life provides enough distraction and busy-ness to squeeze out the time required to get to some arbitrary form that I’ve decided is the one I want.

What if I, WE, chose what we have now? What if we loved the vessel enough that making good choices would be less punishment and more affirmation of a life well lived?

What if we knew that the body was merely part of the continuum of our thoughts, emotions and soul? Instead of enforcing our ego-needs, what if we asked, “What does my body want from me?”

What if…