We all have them — we all have body issues. Whether you’re young, not so young, thin, fit, curvy…whatever. Every woman you meet and every woman you know has a hangup about her body. But can we ever find body confidence or is it an elusive pursuit?
I was talking a friend of mine recently about her own body hang-ups. First, I was surprised she had any. She is 32, beautiful, and if you saw her body, you’d want her body. I want her body.
She apparently isn’t all that thrilled with that body I want; when she looks in the mirror, she sees mistakes, yet when I see her, I see beauty. It’s lunacy.
We are all struggling with our own body issues, real or imagined, grasping for self-love we deny ourselves, the confidence that others repeatedly try to rob from us. Feeling comfortable in the skin we were given is not easy. As women we are essentially like sieves, trying to retain our confidence only to feel it sift through our punctured selves.
As I’ve gotten older that fragile self-confidence sometimes erodes away as new flaws layer on top of old ones, leaving me wondering, Will it ever stop? Will I ever be happy with my body?
It’s a constant homage to my younger self.
I’ve had body issues since I was 7 years old. I was rail thin. In fact, my knees were the fattest part of my legs. Imagine if you will an image of bugs bunny, teeth, and everything. That was me. except in place of the ears, I had pigtails.
Here’s the thing: I’m from a Cuban family. Thin equals mal-nourished, anemic, and unattractive. I got the signals. I was constantly being told that I was too skinny by everyone in my family. My uncle even nicknamed me “fishing rod.” I don’t think it was meant as a compliment, although many times in my life since — when I’ve been heavier than I liked, I’ve wished to be called that again.
You would think that once I put on a few pounds in my teens that I would have been pleased with my new found fullness, with the satisfied relief from my mother — her daughter was now healthy. Instead, insecurities about my body lingered —body shaming ns negativity had already left an imprint. And though my weight fluctuated over the years, my holed self-image remained…well, holy.
I’m exhausted. Aren’t you? I’m tired of picking at my pieces, comparing them, hating them, never being satisfied.
We are never satisfied. We are always seeking, always striving to meet unrealistic expectations with a kind of gentle hunger that never gets satisfied. We get to one weight and that’s not good enough. We lose the weight we wanted, then we’re flabby. We gain a couple of pounds and we beat ourselves up about it.
Even when I was in the best shape of my life (at 50) I didn’t see it. Of course, I did see it when I was no longer in the best shape of my life a few years later…like now. Now I look back at pictures of me at that age, and think, Wow, girl, you looked good for an old chick. Just kidding.
I NEVER refer to myself as old….but I do, in hindsight, acknowledge that I was in the best shape for my age and that I didn’t appreciate it – or myself.
What a waste of life. And I have spent a good part of my life obsessing over things I had no control over.
Like cellulite.
I call my cellulite Shirley Temple (not like the drink, but like the person). If you don’t know who Shirley Temple is then you are most definitely much younger than me and need to Google her. She was a child start back in the stone age who was known for her adorable dimples. My thigh dimples are anything but adorable.
Anyway, Shirley has been a permanent resident in my temple (see what I did there?) since I was 13 years old — a constant in my struggle with my outer self. She has colored my young body and my toned one, hung around through thick thighs and thin. It’s stayed put like an agoraphobic that is fearful of leaving her house.
I’ve tried to evict cellulite many times over the years, spending money I didn’t have, and time that could have been dedicated to… so many other things.
I finally – finally realized that I need to make peace with Shirley — I mean my cellulite — and give my precious time to the things I can control, what I am passionate about, the things that really matter. For me these days, it’s focusing on my health as I get older. Without it, nothing else matters, does it? Shifting my focus to health and making my body stronger is something I am passionate about these days — while still trying to look good in a bikini. Don’t judge me.
The bonus, of course, is that once we start making the changes necessary to achieve a healthier and stronger body, it will reward us by looking healthier and stronger too.
Look, aging is a curious and difficult thing, and gravity will find us all – even those who hide among the young crowd (like me). Our bodies are constantly changing and evolving, shifting this way and that. When you come to terms with a certain issue, here comes another one to rattle your confidence.
It’s all one big test, I think. Sadly, I have failed at this test all too often, and I have measured my self-worth on how my body looks, far too often.
Curating body confidence and the self-love that accompanies it, I have come to realize, is a life-long pursuit. I’m still trying, still growing, still learning. And this is startling to me because I thought by this age I’d have it all figured out; I thought by now I could rest on my well-deserved wisdom. But I’m still ambling (stumbling to be more accurate) through this crazy beautiful journey called life.
This is what I hope for you as well as for me…
I hope you can develop the fortitude to ignore the collective voice that tells us, women, that we are too fat or too thin or too muscular or too old — never just right. I know it’s hard to silence that voice. But here’s the thing: we can all blame society and social media and brands, and advertisers, and men, and everyone we’ve ever met. But where has that gotten anyone? We are all still a hot mess.
THIS IS AN INSIDE JOB.
And as all inside jobs are, it’s messy, may take a while, but once you get started, you can only ever uncover the truth.
And the truth is — and this I hope echoes with you: that you need to silence everyone’s voice but your own. Your body is sending you signals all the time. Listen to it.
No one will ever achieve that perfect body because a perfect body cannot exist.
Instead of flinging yourself into pieces, dissecting each one as if it was a biology project; instead of comparing those pieces with the women on Instagram, or a celebrity, put yourself back together (from the inside, remember) and start to notice the beauty in your wholeness and the beauty and uniqueness in your imperfections. Your body is the body you were given along with your life. It’s a gift.
Focus on your overall health, on your strength, and your flexibility — and the rest will fall into place.
That’s what I’m doing these days and what I will continue to do. I can’t say that I’m at peace with all my pieces — perhaps I never will be. But I am learning to let some things go. I will continue to workout to try to improve what I can, and the things I can’t improve or fix (like cellulite), well…I’ll just have to surrender them. I have definitely learned not to beat myself up about that.
I realize, after all, that time, the teacher of all things, has, in fact, gifted me with a little wisdom.
xoxo,
V