I remember a time where the word “joyful” and “movement” didn’t feel grammatically correct in the same sentence.

There was a period of my life when the buzzing voice of diet culture had its volume waaaay up. You know, the constant nagging of: “you need to exercise every single day to be healthy” and “you need to work-out hard”,  or “if you want to eat XYZ you have to workout today” for the *insert unrealistic body rule/ideal/social construct*. Ew, cringey times. 

And let’s be real, the way I interacted with movement those days left no, no, NO room for joy. 

 Shall I paint the picture we all know too well? The sweaty, crowded, stinky, brightly lit gym. The Disneyland length lines for a medieval guillotine-like machine that left me in a painful pretzel. The mirrors on mirrors on the wall, watching you, watching me watching you. 

 And let’s not forget the LOOOUUD...