Friday, September 23, 2011

my body.

I love walking around naked. I think I'm sexy. My body bears the marks of motherhood: stretch marks and a scar from which the midwife pulled my child from me. I think it's part of what makes me sexy.





I would venture to say that this is what I look like. A little less booty though, I've never been really blessed in that region. In the 1600s this was beauty. There are plenty of people out there who still think this is beautiful... myself included.



But somewhere along the line, this has become the ideal of beauty. She must have worked hard for that body and yes it looks like I could do my laundry on her stomach, but when did this become the image of what women compare themselves to?

I want to model to my daughter a healthy self-image. I don't want her to compare herself to other girls or to think that if you can't shop at Forever 21, it doesn't mean that you aren't beautiful. Beauty is so much more than skin deep. Beauty is in your words and your actions. Beauty is what is on the inside. Beauty is compassion and love. Beauty is taking that money you were going to spend on that tummy tuck and boob lift and giving it to the hungry or your child's future. So I guess that means I have to actively be seeking that myself. It's hard though. I also bear the scars of hurtful words and actions of those once very close to me.  Being a girl, those things cut deep. However, as time goes on and as my daughter grows, how she sees herself becomes more important than whether or not I'll be wearing a size 10 by the time my 20 year reunion rolls around next summer.

I came across this on Pinterest the other day...


The quote beside it read:  "A mark for every breath you took, every blink, every sleepy yawn. One for every time you sucked your thumb, waved hello, closed your eyes and slept in the most perfect darkness. One for every time you had the hiccups. One for every dream you dreamed within me.

It isn't very pretty anymore. Some may even think it ugly. That's OK. It was your home. It's where I first grew to love you, where I lay my hand as I dreamed about who you were and who you would be. It held you until my arms could, and for that, I will always find something beautiful in it."

This is how I feel about things now.  I pondered hard the other day that if I had the means to do it, would I get plastic surgery?  I don't think so.  I don't think stretch marks are 'ugly'.  I don't 'hate' my body.  Life is a gift.  It's up to us to see it as such and to be that model to our children.  

There.  Got it off my chest.