While at the beach this summer, I indulged in one of my favorite guilty pleasures—reading magazines; only this time I found the contents with their emphasis on losing weight, hard to stomach.

Right on the cover, it teased of a Total Body Plan. At 41, I am still trying to piece together some semblance of a life plan. I had no idea my body needed a plan, too. I wondered if they made special Day Planners for these kinds of plans with separate tabs for each of my limbs.

Under the name of the celebrity on the cover was another teaser Her Body & Career. While the career seemed valid enough, I couldn’t help but think it was just tacked on as extra appendage to what was really being showcased—her body.

Also on the cover, there was the question that has undoubtedly been asked since the time of great philosophers such as Aristotle and Aquinos—how to lose the last 5 pounds?

Finally, in the July issue it would be revealed. And in case you were just a tiny bit skeptical about their claim, right underneath it assured readers they were indeed, for real.

For real?

I didn’t know whether to be angry or just bored. Either way, I am weary of our society’s obsession with weight.

Sitting on the beach I thought about how most of us out there (myself included) were more naked than not, giving me ample opportunity to study the different bodies. Some were sculpted, some sagging, others a combination of both. There were bulges and curves. I saw dimples and D-cups. I saw elderly bodies with lines and patches of gray, and the creaseless bodies of children who seemed oblivious to things like body plans.

And, I decided it really wasn’t that interesting. Any of it.

For real.

What was kind of cool was watching the agility of the surfers as they balanced on their boards; the tenacity of youngsters as they got knocked over by the force of the waves—and not only got back up, but like warriors, ran straight into the waves again undaunted by their tumble; the people riding bikes catching up with friends or taking leisurely strolls enjoying the solitude as much as the surf; and the uber-athletes running sprints in the soft sand to train for their next race.

I marveled at all the human bodies. Not what they looked like, but what they could do and knew that there bodies are vessels by which they experience the world.

After all, the things they allow us to do are phenomenal.

Still, it’s weird to think how our bodies become ways to define ourselves instead of simply the vehicle we use to define the world with our unique gifts.

For me, the cover of that magazine is just another reminder that most of us don’t get that things from this world will pass away.

Yes, even the last 5-pounds.

God doesn’t care if my abs look like a 6-pack or that I just drank a 6-pack. He really doesn’t.

He does care that I love my neighbor—even if I really don’t want to. He cares that I allowed my body to stretch beyond the size of a giant beach ball to experience the miracle of life. He cares that I teach the lives I brought into the world to live a life according to His plan.

I don’t think washboard abs were on his mind when he died on the cross to wash away the inequities of sin.

And so I don’t sound like a Pharisee, let me be clear—I have been as guilty of this kind of vanity as anyone else. While I have always been thin, I have never been perfect physically or otherwise. I have obsessed over my imperfections.

I don’t know the totality of time wasted by humanity striving to weigh less so they can feel like their value is more. Nor can I fathom the dollars spent on this endeavor to conform our unique selves to the selves of a select few.

But it has all become tiresome to me, and for that I am grateful.

Eating healthy, exercising and otherwise respecting and caring for our bodies is to honor God. If in the process, we end up with 6-pack of abs, so be it. But Body Plans and articles on how to get a better-looking bum seem to make people feel bad not better.

Later that same evening, I was on the beach watching my kids play with their young cousins. I once again marveled at not only the magnitude of the ocean, which never tries to shirk from its wide girth, but the many people on the shore. Regardless of age or imperfections they seemed too enchanted with the sea to do anything other than feel happy.

It made me think of the cover of that magazine again and how it offered not only the answer to that timeless quest to lose the last 5 pounds, but 137 ways to feel happy all summer.

For real, 137 ways!

I watched my nephew, who is almost 2 years old, run with abandon, determination and wonderment right by this elderly woman, who was brown, wrinkled and worn. She was relying on her walker to navigate herself through the sand. As my nephew precariously balanced to stay upright while racing along, she did the same on her walker—all the while holding tight to the handle of her kite that swayed effortlessly above them.

With the gentleness of the wind and in their own unique way, they both flew.

So now I had reason 138 to be happy: no body plan would have ever strived for a moment so flawless—a moment that had nothing to do with looking perfect but everything to do with being beautiful.

And it was for real my dear friends.

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Apprentice Editor: Jessica Sandhu/Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Pixoto