My Less Than Perfect Self

     When did we (I)decide that the epitome of a woman with her shit together has a flat stomach,  toned arms,  and legs like Tina Turner?  Why am I so freaking hard on myself and full of self loathing about my body?  What the hell is wrong with it?! Sadly,  I can tell you more about what's wrong with it than right.  I constantly feel disgusted about some body part or other on a daily basis,  or my inability to survive-and enjoy-on a diet of nothing but clean,  healthy food and to work out -and enjoy it-for at least an hour a day. 
     Where did this come from?  When did I decide this was an acceptable way to think and feel about myself? Why do I struggle so much with accepting myself in all its glorious fabulousness?  And again,  where did this struggle come from?
     I suppose I could blame "society", ya know,  the nameless,  faceless entity that determines standards of beauty and success.  And sometimes,  I do. Despite my years of wisdom and experience, and all of the things I've accomplished,  I fall prey to the belief that after having only one child,  I too, at 41 years old,  should have the same body as Gwen Stefani,  a woman with 3 kids,  and older. A woman who makes her living in singing and dancing.  A woman with the time,  money, desire, and incentive to hire personal trainers,  nannies,  and chefs. She and I are world's apart,  yet I compare myself,  my body,  to hers, knowing as I do,  that it's counter productive,  with no basis for comparison except other than we grew up in Orange County,  we're in our 40s and are both working mommas. That's it.  Oh,  and we're natural brunettes.  I'm a successful woman in my own right,  with a handsome husband who never seems to want to stop touching the goodies-mine,  not his-and a beautiful 3 year old son who loves his momma and her less than perfect body. So if those 2 can love my less than perfect body and mind,  then why the hell can't I?