For years, I've felt like a prisioner in my own body. I had a suit of armor, so to speak, of my own making.
Through hard work, my prison has slowly been stripped away, layer by layer (I've still got a considerable amount of "armor" on my person. But comparatively, it's quite a change and I feel super vulnerable about it at times). But. BUT. And this is a big but (no pun intended, hey-oh!), I still feel a deep and profound shame about my body.
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| Quick special shout-out to my husband here, for helping me work through this. I know it's something I've got to work on and do for myself, but it helps to have somebody who appreciates your body, notices small changes, and basically worships you like a goddess. Thanks, boo. |
My besties, who have all seen me in various stages of undress, know that I'm particularly self-conscious about my belly. I may call it a food baby, baby Buddha, keg, etc to joke around, but the truth is, I hate it. A lot.
The good news is, I have other body parts that I dig. My ass is fantastic. My face is pretty cute. I've got decent legs. I like my shoulders. I just can't seem to get past my body shame, and most of it centers around my midsection. It's pale and has stretch marks. I have never, ever, EVER voluntarily showed it off in public. EVER.
Today, Jeffer, Taco, and I went out to Brillion to explore. We hiked at the nature center for a bit, but the mosquitoes got so bad we had to abandon ship pretty quickly. Jeff had a few things to take care of, so Taco and I went for a jog on the Friendship Trail. It was hotter than hell. I was sweating my ass off and my t-shirt was uncomfortably stuck to me in a billion places. As I was jogging, I thought, "man, I wish I could take my shirt off."
Then, I thought, "why the hell can't I take my damn shirt off?"
I immediately dismissed the idea. I will barely wear a bathing suit, let alone run around without a shirt on. Tank tops feel revealing to me. I've worn shorts twice this summer, and felt uncomfortable the whole time. My brain kept telling me, "nobody wants to see that shit, Ang. Keep it on!"
Then, I stopped myself. Thoughts started spiraling through my brain...
What the fuck, Ang. What the fuck. You are alone.
Your dog doesn't give a flying fuck what your belly looks like.
And furthermore...do you really care what any potential strangers you MIGHT run into think of your body?
Are the thoughts of hypothetical strangers more important than your own personal comfort right now?
I started thinking about all the amazing things my body is capable of. My legs have walked in over 40 states, 12 countries, up hills and mountains, and across graduation stages. My hands have caught babies as they've entered the world and held the hands of dying patients as they've exited the world. My arms have held my friends' babies and hugged the ones I love. My mouth, while sassy and with a penchant for getting me into trouble, kisses the ones I love and shares my thoughts with the world. My body has done some pretty amazing stuff. What right do I have to hate such an amazing thing???
Fuck it, I thought, stripped my shirt off, and finished my jog (wog, actually. Taco got tired before I did, surprisingly).
Had I seen another human, I probably would have put my shirt back on immediately. I did put it back on before I got back to the highway portion of the trail. I felt weird the whole time. The point is, today was a tiny step towards self-love and liberation for me, and it took a lot for me to be able to do it. Even more to share this hella unflattering but empowering picture that I'm about to link. Yeesh.
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| Werkin dem angles. |
