Like many women, I always felt as if my body was public property. Last year, I decided the two of us needed to work on our relationship
As the pandemic eases, the hobbies and interests many of us developed during lockdown start to be forgotten. Half-finished crochet sweaters languish at the back of closets, while Zoom quiz nights have been shelved for in-person quiz nights, and who is still remembering to feed their sourdough starter (RIP my very own Barack O’Starter)? I – unexpectedly – started to exercise during the pandemic, but even more surprisingly, I’ve kept it up. For about a year now, I’ve been going on daily walks, riding my bike instead of taking the bus and heading to the gym to lift weights. I’ve even started to use the flexed bicep emoji without irony. Who even am I these days?
For context, I’m 34, have weak ankles and always thought of exercise as something you tried to get out of doing at school by telling your male PE teacher you were on your period, just like in a sitcom. It was a punishment you endured in order to achieve a version of happiness categorised by being “healthy”. People often say you should treat your body like a temple – and I did! One of those old, forgotten hilltop temples that fall to ruins because of neglect.
