The relationship you have with your body should be one of the strongest, it is the one thing that will carry us through the various stages of our lives. The good, the bad and very much the ugly, and if you’re lucky enough to have a healthy body it’s important for us to look at it with gratitude and not through a lens of what we wished it could look like. I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on how good I’m feeling in my own skin and how it hasn’t always been the case, so I figured I’d write about it.
My body is my autobiography.theonewiththepoetry
Each stretch mark tell a story of growth and becoming.
My skin is a silent conversation of how much I have accomplished.
I received what someone believed to be a compliment once and for some reason I have never been able to forget it; I didn’t take it as a compliment. I was told that I ALWAYS looked good and for the body I had, I managed to make it work. 👀 Cue the awck silence. I have never been one to dwell on my appearance in comparison to others, I simply work with what I got and I’m good to go. But every once in awhile that “compliment” would creep into my mind and I’d ask myself, “am I making this work? You’re 5’1, questionably around 160lbs ( I don’t own a scale and wouldn’t put myself through that mental roller coaster), have slightly crooked bottom teeth, sagging breasts, a vacant, stretched stomach, bad smelling feet and can sweat at the thought of sweat. But, with a couple slaps of makeup, a blue moon and questionable lighting, I can appear to be hot.” You look like you have it all together. But I can also assure you, that some of my most low moments have been when I have had a full face of makeup on. Mostly because I wanted to feel some slither of projected togetherness. Not because I was trying to hide anything, but because makeup allows me to “play”, I can choose what colour I want as eyeshadow, what colour lipstick, it allows me to push outside of what I’m feeling and be satisfied with what reflects back. Then I go on to slay the day. For me, it has helped me, because it allowed me to push outside of my head and think of something else. Playing devil’s advocate, though I have to ask myself why not simply stand and confront my body and how it appears and continue to do so until I love it? But for me, living my daily life with and in the body I have is self love. Not altering it and celebrating it for all the things it does for that goes unnoticed until there’s a problem. Trying to feed it the right things and loving it in the now. As it is now. Not how I want it to be, not compared to someone I saw online and most certainly NOT to a Kardashian.
Your body deserves your unconditional love.
I follow many body confidence bloggers, I read their content and I like and support their messages. But for whatever reason I can’t fully relate to them. Whether it’s because it’s not the body type I see reflected, or because I don’t have the same feelings surrounding the way I look. I’ve blogged about it before, the teeter totter of embracing all that is being in your own skin, being able to look at all of the tapestry that it is and not resent it. And in some ways I definitely took the body I had for granted, it did what it needed to do and I carried on my merry way. It wasn’t until I got pregnant till I realised just how little control you have over your body. Even after my daughter was evicted, it then felt foreign to me. It took almost 2 years for me to feel like myself again and to begin to start piecing the puzzle of how to dress the frame I was left with. And while I was still adjusting to the way it looked, I mostly just shrugged and continued on my way because, well I had a life to keep alive and she didn’t care that I have stretch marks or a jiggly stomach. In fact, to this day she tells me she really likes my squishy stomach- it does wonders for my self esteem. But every once in a while I will look down at myself and wonder why after 8.5 years I still don’t look like I did in my mid-20’s. Why I haven’t lost the baby weight and “snap back” like a Kardashian. Then I’ll scold myself and realise that I don’t have their budget or their 24 hours and I have a much more attainable figure for us mortals. But all joking aside, I genuinely look at myself and smile- because despite the fact that I would genuinely appreciate my 20’s perky breasts, I wouldn’t trade my 37 year old wisdom, in order to have it. And despite the fact that I would love to tap into my 20’s energy, I definitely much prefer my current vibe. If my 20’s body comes with my 20’s toxic traits- it’ll have to be a hard pass, because my current toxic traits are a much better improvement.
The way I see it, which could be very much indicative of the way I was raised, but my body is a vessel. It takes me from here to there, it allows me freedom and flexibility, it is autonomous. I am an able bodied, cis-gendered female, with sagging size 38D breasts (they were wonderfully perky at one point), with a stretch marked stomach and hyperpigmentation under 1 eye and lots of newly discovered moles along her face. None of this is bad. None of this makes me a bad person. None of this reduces my attraction. And none of this should impact the way I carry myself through my day to day. Does it? Yes, sometimes. Do I get happy at the fact that I can still slide into my sized 28 jeans from 4 years ago? 100%, because I hate shopping for jeans. When I work out, I do it because it makes me feel good after. I do it because I want to keep my heat healthy and I do it because I like pushing myself to see what I can achieve physically, because I was never an athlete. Like ever, but I am very much enjoying seeing the physical strength I am gaining while moving my body.