The journey to self-love and body confidence has been long and arduous.
Love is not just the number of likes for a beautiful picture, a perfectly ‘slayed’ face, or a transient state of happiness.
There are peaks and troughs, and some days despite my love for myself, I still get caught on my hang-ups. The side of my belly that overhangs, my bunions, and the annoying hairs that always reappear on my chin. These are the not so good days. But I wouldn’t say bad, not anymore.
There was a time when how I felt, or how others felt about my physical appearance, would make me lie in my bed for hours. I would cry on the floor and then pray for forgiveness for being so ungrateful & vacuous. But now, the bad days are never about my physical appearance. And I’m so proud!
There was once a time I couldn’t look in the mirror. I was terrified of an image that didn’t reassemble the idea of beauty I thought I needed to fit into. That didn’t include my nose, my skin, my blemishes, my unperky boobs, scars, bunions, and a messy silhouette. I looked at the images on ‘The Gram’, or the happy girls in the bars and restaurants I frequented and felt they represented everything I did not have.
The perfectionist in me would like to tell you that my journey to loving myself originated with some good books and therapy, but that would be a lie. Books and therapy definitely helped, but my journey back to me started with a beau, (the feminist in me just departed).
But I wanted to be truthful so that I could share a real journey, and say not all beautiful flowers start in a wonderful garden, some are found in a field of weeds and nettles.
That was me a mess, a lost soul, unheard and unseen by the most important person, myself. But I met a guy from my past, who just got me. I didn’t need to have makeup on for him to say I was beautiful, and I didn’t need to dress up to be sexy. Bumping into him on my way it to work, and seeing his smile made my day.
And those kind eyes, those words of comfort when I was so self-deprecating, was how I started to be kind to myself, and be present. When I’d say I look like a tramp, or talk about how fat I was getting. He would roll his eyes.
On one of my particularly self-loathing days, he asked me “why do you say these things about yourself”. “You are who you are, you’re not fat, you are you”… and some other stuff I can’t remember now, but my point was, he challenged me. I had to push aside my negative thoughts about myself and appraise these new positive ones. And this forced me to make new opinions about myself.
You see by being negative about your body, you are often not grounded in your present reality. You’re upset with yourself for not having the body you had then, or the body you dream about having. Both of these notions are fantasies. You are who you are, now, at this moment, and that is always going to change. Yes, always.
So imagine, us thinking about our 18-year-old bodies at 30 and wishing we had that body now. Think about all the things we’ve learnt about our bodies now, physically, emotionally, psychologically, in ill and good health, but most importantly how differently we dress and understand our shape. It’s laughable to think we could ever really go back, but also impossible! So why bother, when here, at this moment, you are gorgeous.
Around that time, I started reading this book by Marianne Williamson, which asks “who are we to be beautiful”, and it got me thinking about my body image. The book goes on to discuss the constant comparisons we make as human beings. I thought what if I didn’t care about this woman’s perfect ‘hip to waist ratio’, or this girl’s plump natural breasts? What if I just only looked at myself, and accepted me, not as separate from my personality or character, but as one whole being.
This helped me look at myself too! Even though I didn’t like my reflection. I could stand me as a person. I had friends and family who loved me. I thought about all the things I brought to the world, my humour, my love, my imagination. All these gifts and talents I had. And somehow, I wasn’t intolerable, I just was.
Seems so simple, but reconnecting my physical self to my emotional and spiritual self was so freeing. To finally see and be seen by me, and more importantly valued. And although the man didn’t last, the lessons I learnt I’ll treasure for a lifetime. It’s so easy to love a pretty face, but true love is to accept and be present in who you are now.
I hope this helps anyone starting, on this self-love journey. Here’s the book details: A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of a Course in Miracles, Marianne Williamson
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