Loving the Body

I've hated my body since puberty reared its ugly head circa 1993. That's almost 18 years of self loathing. My mantra has always been negative. I'm too tall, my boobs too saggy, my stomach has never been flat, my hair is frizzy, my nose too big, and the circles under my eyes grow darker every day. My face is covered in freckles, my feet make shoes look too big. My upper arms and thighs are too jiggly, and my eyebrows disappear in photos. I have horse teeth, and no hips or butt to hold up my pants.

This evening, I took a bath. Normally I overdo it on the bubbles, turn the lights off and submerge myself to my nose. Tonight, being a little short on time, I left the lights on, left the bubbles out and only filled the tub a couple inches. As I stared down at myself (the worst angle to stare at a naked body for sure), I was surprised and gleeful about the fact that I approved of what I saw. Nothing has changed, I've not started a new diet or exercise plan, and wasn't even in a particularly good mood. I was just satisfied, and a little proud. My skin is soft and even, my legs and arms are long. My shape is feminine, and my body is strong.

After suffering a back injury a little over a year ago, I discovered what it was like to not be able to rely on my body. I had always hated how it looked, but had taken for granted the fact that I had always been in possession of a young, healthy, strong body. I relied on it to take me where I wanted to go, stand for long hours, keep me moving, and it had never let me down. When going grocery shopping sparked anxiety, I had to face the fact that I couldn't rely on my body, and didn't know when or if I would be able to trust it again. My focus shifted from hating how I looked to hating how I felt, and to nurturing my body, and praying that I would feel better again. In the midst of all of this, I got married. Unlike other brides, I wasn't physically able to undergo "bridal bootcamp", nor did I have the energy to care about how I looked in my dress, I just wanted to be able to stand at the altar without pain. Thanks to physical therapy, and to my sheer delight, not only was I able to stand and dance at my wedding, but I also felt beautiful in my dress. I braved a bikini for the first time in my life on my honeymoon, and since the wedding, I have tried to avoid negative thoughts when I look in the mirror, and be thankful that my pain has subsided and the worst seems to be behind me. And today, in the bath, I realized that without conscious thought I am finally able to like what I see, and be gratetful for what I have.

I have wasted too much time obsessing over my body, and have spent hardly any time celebrating it. I've reached an age where my body is as good as its going to get, so I better enjoy what I've got while I have it:) And seriously, am I still holding on to feelings I had 18 years ago? I've come a long way since then, and plan to look and feel fabulous from here on out:)

Posted by Mrs. Sweatpants

Dear Media,

I’m writing to inform you that I take offense to your ever-present bombardment of messages aimed at ladies like me on a daily basis. It seems as if your intentions are to make me feel as if there is something inherently wrong with me. I thought that you might like to reconsider some of the misconceptions you currently hold about me most ladies I know…

For example, my belly has fat on it because it is a BELLY, and that is where the food goes and where the babies live. It is supposed to be warm and soft. I’d like to keep it that way.

I have feet to keep me upright and to walk on. No amount of squishy gel or padding is going to convince me that high heels are an intelligent vessel in which to house my feet.

Telling me to bake cake with diet soda instead of eggs, drink protein shakes for lunch, eat “cheesecake flavored” yogurt, and only drink 4oz of wine a month is insane. French women eat real food and drink all the time and they look fabulous. Probably because you aren’t there telling them they are fat and ugly all the time.

The lines on my face tell the story of my life. Every smile and laugh has left its imprint around my eyes and mouth. I can only hope that these lines get deeper with every future laugh and smile. Botox cannot have my lines.

If his balls can sag, so can my breasts.

Stop writing articles about how celebrity moms “get their bodies back.” If I had millions of dollars, 5 nannies, 10 personal trainers, a stylist, a publicist, and a hair and makeup team, I’d look fabulous, too.

I love carbs, please don’t make me give them up.

Stop telling me about his “turn offs” and “secret fantasies.” I also don’t like taking quizzes to determine if I’m “too needy.” Why not tell me that I am a strong, powerful, intelligent, and beautiful woman fully deserving of love?

And finally, please stay away from my future daughters.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Sweatpants