Without a Filter – The Story of My Body | Márti

My calves and me.

Is there a key to self-acceptance and unconditional self-love? A magic phrase that, once spoken, puts everything back in place? I think everyone carries their own magic words somewhere deep inside their heart. Sometimes, over the years, we build walls around them to protect ourselves. Even then, we should not lose hope. We simply have to search inside for that private little spell we thought we had lost.

I never considered myself a particularly beautiful child, and my family did not exactly spend much time convincing me otherwise. I cannot tell stories of wild kindergarten romances or later successes connected to my appearance.

My hair was always cut short and boyish, and I wore clothes handed down from siblings and relatives. (Just a warning to everyone in advance: this can lead to a serious shopping addiction in adulthood, so be careful. :)

My legs — especially my calves — were never among my favourite parts of my body. Quite the opposite. I hated that I could never wear narrow-leg trousers. Boots? Mission impossible.

There is one great basic truth: if something bothers you, change it. If you cannot change it, accept it.

A calf is one of those body parts that can be visually improved and can change somewhat through weight loss and exercise. Over the years, I did manage to work on mine. As an adult with absolutely no sporting background, I started running when my excess weight had become too frustrating. Naturally, running changed my calves considerably too, and women often told me they wished they had calves like mine. I always assumed they were just making polite compliments.

If I look at my body proportionally, I would probably look fairly ridiculous with very thin calves. And of course my calves were not the only part of my body I struggled to accept. Eventually I think I reached the point where I could simply say: this is how they are. This is what life gave me.

Unfortunately, I cannot even claim that I was slim before giving birth. When an old photograph of myself turns up, I seriously wonder why nobody back then told me I looked as though I survived entirely on pancakes breaded in Nutella.

I had never done sport. So after my second child was born and I decided I wanted to shed the body I was carrying, running seemed the simplest solution. Legs? Check. And what legs they were. Then running began bringing more and more small successes — not to mention weight loss.

Later, I started training too. Even more positive experiences followed. I had a very strong motivation that carried me through every low point. I ate with discipline and trained consistently.

Eventually I reached something close to my dream body. Then life changed. More precisely, I got divorced. Emotionally I went through some very deep periods, while at the same time experiencing enormous personal growth. The number of calories I consumed each day was the last thing on my mind. And I had always had a tendency to reward myself with food.

Naturally, the constant snacking after difficult emotional periods — followed by enforced inactivity after Covid — was not especially kind to either my calves or the rest of my body. I have always been somewhat extreme in every area of life. I either throw myself into something at full speed or lose interest almost completely.

Despite all of this, I still receive positive feedback.

I am grateful to my calves for all the kilometres we have run together. I am grateful for the compliment I received after a date that was specifically about my calves. The guy himself has since gone in the bin — not everyone deserves these calves, after all — but the compliment remained safely stored in the cloud. :)

I have spent a great deal of energy trying to make other people accept me. But first I need to finish the work inside myself.

Everyone has parts of their body they find difficult to accept. I have several. And I doubt I am alone. Social media plays an enormous role in the unrealistic expectations women place on themselves.

Today, a woman is expected to be present in a thousand places at once and deliver 100% everywhere. Often, that is simply impossible. There is not room for everything at the same time in one life. It is difficult to find the balance in which we feel good in our bodies, try to live healthily, be good mothers and still perform at work in the way people expect.

The order of that list is not accidental. I think the first thing should be to build a genuinely good relationship with ourselves. If that is in place and family life is reasonably balanced too, we are already halfway there.

One of the foundations of motherhood is loving ourselves. Ideally, there is also a supportive partner beside us. Then the story begins to feel whole.

And work — again, ideally — should come last. There has always been work, and there always will be. Of course, the kind of work matters. If we are lucky, our work is also our passion. If we are less lucky, it is simply a task we do because we have to.

Whatever the case, I wish everyone the courage to find the road life has meant for them — and to love and accept themselves along the way. That is how our own small world becomes whole.

There are many people beside me now, and I am deeply, deeply grateful to life for that.

Thank you. ❤️

Márti

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