I spent the greater part of my young life apologizing for my body. My feet were “ too big”, or as she called them “ gunboats” or my shoulders too broad, “ maybe you could slouch a bit, you look so “manish” with those shoulders”. My chest too big, and my waist never small enough to suit her…. and on and on.
I now know that her dissatisfaction with me was a twisted version of her unhappiness with herself and where that came from I don’t know (but have my guesses) and I spent years peeling back the onion of the things she and the world said that were meant to slip under my skin and change me and my body into something that deemed physically pleasing to the world, i.e. to men.
Thankfully for me I was an obstinate child.
And for the most part I did that emotional work with no help from Teen magazine and then Glamour, then People then then eventually the internet where unless you are thin but curvy, tall but also petite, blonde but also dark and sultry you were never going to amount to anything. And for goodness sake, be modest in all things you tramp!
Changing the Narrative
The thing is all bodies are *Good enough bodies*. Yes, sometimes they let us down, in strength, shape or wellness but they are what we got. Learning to live with them without hating them and dare I say loving them is the most radical thing we can do in an age where you can’t flip open a magazine or scroll your social feed without be sold something to fix what is “wrong with you”. From your soft chin or flat ass, to that skin the is less than perfect and must be covered as not to offend the world at large.
This is Me
I have size 10 feet, the shoulders of a warrior, and a Pancreas that’s a real buzz-kill and what that means is that I am steady of foot and if there is an emergency I am the person you want by your side. I have no fear of lifting ridiculously heavy things and doing things that make others quake. Hell sometimes they make me quake but I know I am capable so move forward with confidence in this body and my shoulders of a warrior. I treat my diabetes and honor my body doing what I needed to make it the best possible given my circumstances.
Each part of me reclaimed from 55 years of negative social construct meant to knock me down a peg is a victory I will celebrate.
This body is worthy and I am not obligated to cover it for the sake of “modesty” since all modesty is a shame based misogynistic weapon to keep women in control and under the thumb of men. Shame is a powerful weapon and throwing it off and to the ground is another radical act of self worth. For this reason my arms with their wrinkly extra skin see the light of day on the regular, my belly with its wild array of stretch marks and extra skin from 6 babies gets its due in a summer bikini and my neck.. what can I say, while Nora Ephron felt bad about hers I am doing my damndest to remember that the loose skin is a testament to the hard work I have done slaying my diabetes and give it a break from intense scrutiny or at the very least give it the grace I give others.
Since if I cannot give grace to myself, does it really have any meaning when I give it to others?
** And for the folks in the back, ** All bodies are good enough bodies**, … in the end I subscribe to the idea that we need to honor ourselves like we honor cats…. Chonky cat – ” come here you majestic beast and let me squish that tummy”, Little cat, “let me boop that sweet tiny snoot”, cat with one leg, “come here you adorable tri-pod”, cat with missing tail “what a cute bunny-butt you have!” – So in the end, if you would not judge it harshly in a cat you loved, try to find the same love for yourself.
