Do me a favor. For sixty seconds, forget about your body. The scale, the mirror, the whole damn drama. Let it go.
Now, connect with that part of you that knows you’re here for something. The part that gets a jolt when you think about the business you want to build, the book you want to write, the change you want to make. The part that knows you have a unique contribution to make.
That’s your Impact. That’s your legacy. That’s the real game.
Now, let all the food and body bullshit come rushing back in. The calorie counting, the guilt, the endless internal debate about whether you’re “allowed” to have the bread basket.
Feel the whiplash?
This is the great con. You’ve been tricked into believing these are two separate things: your body project and your life project.
They are not. They are a zero-sum game.
Every ounce of your precious, finite, and brilliant energy that you pour into the war with your body is energy that is directly stolen from the account of your life’s work.
What’s actually at stake in this food fight has never been your weight. It has always been your Impact.
Diet culture is the ultimate distraction. It gets you to obsess over the vessel so you never have the energy to complete the voyage. It keeps you endlessly polishing the rocket ship while your mission to the stars is quietly aborted on the launchpad.
The True Cost of This Bullshit
You’re a smart woman. You understand ROI. You would never tolerate a department in your company that consumed 40% of your resources while producing nothing. Yet, that’s exactly what the mental project of “body management” is doing.
Let’s do a quick, brutal audit. What is this project really costing you?
It’s costing you your deep work. Your ability to focus, to solve complex problems, to have that next brilliant idea. That’s all being eaten by the constant food math.
It’s costing you your resilience. Your capacity to handle real challenges, to lead with grace, to be present for your people. That’s being drained by the shame and anxiety of the binge-restrict cycle.
It’s costing you your creative hours. The actual, quantifiable time you could be spending writing, creating, building. That’s being lost to the morning wardrobe crisis and the endless scroll through #fitspo content.
Imagine you could liquidate that entire, pointless department and reinvest all of those assets—the time, the energy, the focus—directly into your Impact account.
What could you build with that?
The Biology of Impact
Here’s the simple, no-bullshit biology: Your Impact—your creativity, your leadership, your vision—requires a state of expansion.
The war with your body creates a state of contraction.
Biologically, it’s a state of chronic, low-grade fight-or-flight. And in that state, your genius brain goes offline. Your energy is hoarded. Your focus narrows to the immediate threat (the cookie, the scale, the tight jeans).
You can’t be a visionary when your brain thinks you’re running from a tiger.
Your Impact requires a nervous system that feels safe. Period. It requires a body that is fueled, not fought.
Your Body Is Not Your Masterpiece
Let’s be crystal clear. Your body is a magnificent, intelligent vessel. It deserves care and respect. But it is not your magnum opus.
Your life is your magnum opus. Your Impact is your masterpiece.
No one lies on their deathbed wishing they’d been a smaller size. They wish they’d written the book. They wish they’d taken the risk. They wish they’d made more of a difference.
Don’t let your masterpiece be stolen by the most boring, uninspired thief in the world. The world doesn’t need you to be smaller. It needs you to show up with the full force of your energy, your intelligence, and your power.
What’s at stake is not the size of your jeans. It’s the size of your legacy.
If you’re ready to stop funding the shrinking business and start investing in your Impact account, then we’re on the same page. This is the only conversation I’m interested in having. If you want to know more about how I approach this work, you can find more info at www.cetfreedom.com. Or just send me a message. I’m here for it.
