FIVE GIRLS RAW: Why do I care more about my car than I do my body?

If you took your car for a routine check up and the mechanic told you that were using the wrong type of gasoline and although your car was fine now it will completely break down in 3 years, would you stop using the wrong gasoline?

Hmm…that’s too vague; let’s add some specifics. You just bought this car 3 months ago and this is your first oil change. Would you stop then?

Um, of course you would that’s not a big deal, let’s add a challenge. The gas station you currently go to is right by your house. Convenience is king and the service is always fast. The gas you need is 45 minutes away and $1.00 more expensive. Do you need some time to think about that one?

Most people take care of their cars, some even give them names and take them in for constant maintenance with oil changes, tire rotations etc. They know that they shouldn’t drive their car too much or too little. I do it and I know I’m not the only one. I want my car to last a long time and be as reliable as possible so I make sure to take care of it. For some reason I treat my car better than I have treated my body most of my life. I rarely exercise because it’s inconvenient and food is judged by taste and convenience and not nutritional value.

Yesterday, we did Live Blood analysis to see our make up. It’s amazing how much data you can get from one prick of a finger. You look at me and think I am a healthy, relatively in shape young 25-year-old woman. I thought so too. The truth is I am fine. For now. But in 15 – 30 years, if I make it that long, I am looking forward to some major health problems. These are some of the same problems many of my older family members have faced, and I always promised myself I wouldn’t do that to myself. I had time. I wouldn’t let obesity, diabetes, heart issues and all that bad stuff sneak up on me, but here’s the thing. They don’t just sneak up on you. Here is where they start and they have already begun in me. I learned last week, even though most people would not consider me “fat” I am 30.6 pounds overweight.


My blood tells the story of a liver that is over worked and tired. It speaks of the stress and worry that I have at work and how my body shows traces of having to work overtime in order to stabilize my mood and digest my food. The life force that pumps through my veins is being attacked by a gruesome predator that has the power of mind control forcing me to yearn for the sweets I enjoy so much. It begs me to stop filling my stomach with the milk of other species because my body does not know what to do with it. Lastly, it tells a genetic history of a possibility. A possibility that something in my reproductive organs is potentially headed in the wrong direction. When I bore witness to my blood story, it brought on a deep sadness. I mourned for the things yet too come. I mourned for the possibility of no more possibilities. I mourned for my unborn children and the legacy I have begun to build in my body.

So I made a decision. In the midst of an entire day of daydreaming of hamburgers, Chik-Fil-A French fries and Carrot Cake I decided I had to do better. My body is not a machine, it is a temple that not only needs to be maintained, but it needs to be respected and treated as precious because it is the only one of it’s kind. I can’t just look back on these 30 days as a fun little challenge with my roommates, but a catalyst for change in the rest of my life. I need to differentiate what my body needs as opposed to what I want. The only way I’m going to pass on good habits is if I have them, and the only way I’m going to get them is if I start now. Every new journey starts with one small step. It’s going to be hard. It already is. It is excruciating to smell pizza and pasta while drinking green juice, but I wouldn’t put sewage in my gas tank and I’m not going to keep putting crap in my body.

I don’t know what this is going to look like, but 9 days in to this and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have got to be a little bit better.

We shall see…


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