There was a time long ago when I would stare at my reflection in the mirror, and feel a deep sense of lacking. My thighs were too flabby, my feet were too big, and my boobs were just meh. I had particular disdain for the dark brown birthmark on my ankle, which I took great pains to hide by crossing my ankles when sitting. Despite no one ever commenting on the small mark, it was a constant reminder to me that my body was flawed.
Over time I began to feel more comfortable in my body. It seemed to be less exhausting to simply embrace the one I’d been given, rather than always wishing for someone else’s. I started to realize there were things about my body I actually liked, even those parts that had previously seemed like flaws. I liked my soccer legs and ballet arms, made strong though many afternoons of hard work. I liked the mole on my left cheek, which caused me to laugh when my 2-year old goddaughter asked, “Why do you have a nipple on your face?” (thank goodness I was older and more confident at that moment). I liked my midsection which eventually would stretch to full capacity to carry my babies, then very slowly shrink into a new, soft mommy stomach. I liked my Chinese skin, darkened by the tropical sun of Hawaii. I liked my physical ability to run, jump, and dance with my kids. I liked my hands that let me make food in the kitchen and music on a guitar.
Around my 25th birthday, I realized that this body of mine, though relatively healthy, wasn’t made to last forever. Back and neck aches reminded me my time in my body was limited. Bodies get sick, and injured, and begin to break down. I started to care for my body better, doing things like yoga and eating spinach.
Today I see something different in the mirror. I see a body that I have a lifetime of relationship with. I see a body that lets me engage with the world and people around me. I see a body that it uniquely mine, full of potential and energy and life.
Over time I began to feel more comfortable in my body. It seemed to be less exhausting to simply embrace the one I’d been given, rather than always wishing for someone else’s. I started to realize there were things about my body I actually liked, even those parts that had previously seemed like flaws. I liked my soccer legs and ballet arms, made strong though many afternoons of hard work. I liked the mole on my left cheek, which caused me to laugh when my 2-year old goddaughter asked, “Why do you have a nipple on your face?” (thank goodness I was older and more confident at that moment). I liked my midsection which eventually would stretch to full capacity to carry my babies, then very slowly shrink into a new, soft mommy stomach. I liked my Chinese skin, darkened by the tropical sun of Hawaii. I liked my physical ability to run, jump, and dance with my kids. I liked my hands that let me make food in the kitchen and music on a guitar.
Around my 25th birthday, I realized that this body of mine, though relatively healthy, wasn’t made to last forever. Back and neck aches reminded me my time in my body was limited. Bodies get sick, and injured, and begin to break down. I started to care for my body better, doing things like yoga and eating spinach.
Today I see something different in the mirror. I see a body that I have a lifetime of relationship with. I see a body that lets me engage with the world and people around me. I see a body that it uniquely mine, full of potential and energy and life.
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