Double Chocolate Banana Bread

Subtitle: I FEEL BAD ABOUT MY REAR 

My daughter lost a tooth last week and unlike the boys who love the lure of gore without compare, she is more than a little terrified of anything that is bound to result in even one tiny, microscopic drop of blood. Which means that she was terrified of having this tooth pulled. Despite the fact that it was quite literally hanging by a thread. Despite the fact that she couldn’t eat anything harder than an overcooked noodle. Despite the fact that it was gross. She still wouldn’t let us pull it. And when her daddy was trying, well, she went into full-on panic mode, screaming and crying in a complete tantrum of epic proportions.

And like all good and supportive parents do, we immediately whipped out our phones so we could record it.

Now, in the end her tooth fell out on its own landed in the trash and was lost forever, exactly as her daddy warned her it would do if she didn’t let him pull it. But that’s not the point of this story, really.

The point of this story is in the video. Because in that video there is a full-frame shot of my almost 40 year old behind in all of its glory.

And as I watched this video, the only thing I could focus on was the fact that my behind is a lot larger than I remember it being. A LOT. I had to rewind a few times to verify this fact (which is a lot cooler when you make the rewind noise of yesteryear, by the way) but there was no hiding it. It was me. It was my behind. I was totally unaware that I was being filmed in the background so there was no sucking in. No improved posture. None of those weird things we do right before we know we’re about to get photographed that make us look like ourselves, only a little bit better. Just me and my backside making some dinner in the kitchen.

Somehow, someway a few extra pounds have snuck themselves right on my behind when I wasn’t paying attention. Whether it’s from age or eating habits or the fact that I am almost always in the kitchen creating these days, I don’t know. 

And the weird thing is, for the first time in my life, I don’t really care. 

I used to measure my worth almost exclusively by how I looked. I am not at all proud of this fact. But it is very true. Growing up I was, I guess, a pretty little girl. More than that, though, I had very blond hair and very very blue eyes so I was, by all accounts, striking. I’m not saying this to be proud, I promise. Throughout my entire childhood, I was told that I was pretty–by strangers, by friends, by family, by random people on the street (I’m not kidding about this). That’s it. Pretty. Nothing else. Not smart. Not strong. Not determined. Pretty.

It never ever dawned on me that there might be more to me than meets the eye. NEVER.  

Now I’m not saying this to get pity. I recognize there are far worse things to feel than pretty. I recognize that it was well within my power to claim those other labels for myself, to own my own value and worth and decide to be smart, or determined, or anything else really. But I didn’t.

And being pretty mattered so very much to me. It mattered in high school. It mattered in college. It mattered as a young wife and mother. It mattered as a woman working in the career world. It mattered a lot.

I worked at it. I spent a TON of money (way more than I ever made if I’m being real here) on the best clothes. The best shoes. The best. The best. The best. I worked out like crazy. When things were going a little South because I was eating too much, well, back to the gym I would go. At one point I had fake eyelashes. At one point I would even get regular spray tans.

It mattered.

None of these things are bad in and of themselves, that I know. But they are bad when the sum of their parts are your whole identity. They are bad when you are defining yourself, your mood, your life by the result. They are bad when you base your worth on them. And that, for sure, is what I did.

I’m not sure when the shift happened in my heart that helped me see how damaging this was to my life. There was no one moment, no watershed event that forced me to see how much I was relying on this imperfect measure of my life. But little by little, my heart began to change, to grow, to evolve. 

I began to see my worth as something set not by anything I did or didn’t do. My worth wasn’t set by how I looked or how much I worked out. Because all of these things, they change, they’re subject to the winds. They’re imperfect and unreliable. Age takes away what we take for granted in youth and we can’t outrun the tick of the clock.

My worth is set by a God who calls me His own. By a God so powerful that He commands the tides, yet also loves me enough to chase me down and pursue me through all of my mess. My worth is set in His love that won’t ever change. No matter what.

So, no, it doesn’t bother me to catch an unflattering glimpse of myself in an otherwise hilarious video of my daugthers meltdown. It doesn’t shatter me to realize that age is creeping up on me and I’m not who I was when I was 25 (can I get an AMEN for that one). Sure, I should probably get myself back into the gym and do work again, but when I do I can guarantee it won’t be with the panicked intensity of one fighting for an image. 

Friends, we all battle these things inside of us, these images we have of ourselves that we try to uphold. For some it’s with a beautiful house. For some it’s at the gym or the boardroom. For some it’s through our kids or our spouses. We all do and it’s ok. It’s ok to hold these things as valuable. Where the trouble lies is when they are our value. They make us. They break us. Nothing should have that power over us. NOTHING. 

Take back your power today. When you turn your camera on to take a picture and it’s accidentally turned to selfie mode– Don’t freak out. Don’t cry. Just turn it back around and laugh at yourself. When you glance backwards in the mirror at an odd angle and realize your behind isn’t quite what it used to be, go take a walk, do a few squats and praise the Lord that you still can.

Take back your power. Remind yourself just how loved you are. And if you’re really down, shoot me a PM and I’ll send you the video. It’ll do wonders for your self-esteem.

And in honor of my backside I’m going to share a recipe that no doubt played a part in getting it to its current state. This Double Chocolate Banana Bread is a decadent yet (slightly) healthy treat. A riff on my basic banana bread recipe, this one is rich and chocolate-y and filled with melty pieces of heaven. Kids LOVE it and even my picky eater doesn’t mind that it has fruit in it. Sure, it’s more like a dessert than a breakfast, but that won’t stop me from eating it anyway.

Life is short. Eat the bread.

Peace, love and chocolate,

Meg 

Double Chocolate Banana Bread

September 23, 2019

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By: Meaghan Dawson

Ingredients

• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup cacao powder (or cocoa powder)
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 large eggs, slightly beaten
• 3 medium mashed bananas
• 1/2 cup sour cream (or Greek Yogurt)
• 1/4 cup maple syrup
• 1/4 cup coconut sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1/2 cup chocolate chips

Directions

• Step 1 Preheat oven to 350. Spray a 9×5 bread pan with cooking spray (or lightly grease).
• Step 2 In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cacao powder, salt and baking soda. Set aside.
• Step 3 In a medium bowl mash the bananas and add beaten eggs, sour cream, maple syrup, sugar, and vanilla. Stir until well combined.
• Step 4 Pour wet ingredients into dry and mix just until combined. Adding chocolate chips right before fully mixed and stirring in.
• Step 5 Pour batter into pan and bake 30-35 minutes or until toothpick inserted comes out clean (except for melted chocolate).
• Step 6 Let cool for about 10 minutes before removing from pan to cooling rack.

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