This post is a very honest, true post. One that makes me nervous to write but I am so inspired and encouraged by other women. THIS website and these women's stories are speaking straight inside my heart. I am finding myself crying, nodding in agreement and applauding them for their bravery. And now I sit here thinking to myself, 'since when did being honest with ourselves and loving our bodies become brave?' When did it become something that needs to be worked towards and achieved? At what point did we have it instilled in us that us, just as we are, is not enough?
For me personally, it started in 7th grade. It was around that time that some girls were starting to develop and I was surely not. I waited, I prayed, I did it all. One day surely, I would have these boobs that all these other girls were flaunting around.
And as I write this, as a 31 year old woman, I can still feel that feeling. And as I feel that familiar feeling of desperation, I wonder 'why was I so desperate?' At what point in my 7th grade year did it become painfully clear to me that boobs were something you either had or didn't and why did it matter anyways?
From that point I was fully aware that I was not nearly as well endowed as the other gals in most of my classes. I struggled with what bathing suit to wear that would make me look more bustier, stuffed my bra and as a teen began looking into breast enlargements. As a teen! Instead of filling my self worthy cup, I was going way into the other direction.
Then I became pregnant and suddenly got what I had always wanted since 12 years old. Boobs. They leaked, they ached and my nipples were raw and sore, but dammit, I had boobs! Fast forward 7 years and three kids and my nursing and pregnancy days - along with my "big" boobs - are gone. Add to that some saggy skin, cellulite and stretch marks and I could have a recipe for some sweet self pity. Instead, I rejoice. Truly.
Having had 4 miscarriages, I feel even more aware of being thankful for my body. For allowing me to grow and nourish 3 out of my 7 pregnancies to full term. For being able to nurse 3 babies for over a year at a time. Every mark on my stomach marks a time in one of my pregnancies when my body and skin expanded even more to make room for the remarkable little beings that I am honoured to call my children. While I coco-buttered and hydrated to the nines with my pregnancies, my skin had other plans. There really isn't anything that could have prevented certain changes to my body during pregnancy, and to be honest, I am getting to a point where I wouldn't want it to.
While I still am very hyper aware of my different body post three pregnancies, I can say firmly and proudly that every day I am more appreciative of it.
I wont lie and say that at almost every yoga class I don't adjust my shirt in downward facing dog at least three times to ensure my muffin top doesn't peek out - but what I will say is that I am expanding. My appreciation and self-gratitude is truly at an all time high - somewhere that it should have always been. Where it probably was at the end of grade 6, when I was still oblivious to what was later forced on me to be "beauty" and "sexy" in high school.
Man, I wish I could go back to 12 year old Ange and tell her how perfect she was. To tell her that she would grow into a woman that would have three amazing children and in the process remember what it feels like to be perfectly, amazingly content in herself - body and soul.
These last couple of months have truly brought me further than I thought possible. I knew that yoga training would expand my being but I didn't really KNOW what it would entail.
I have begun to scrape away the negative, stinky ol' residue that reeked of depleted self worth, judgement and fear. I have begun chipping away and uncovering WHY I have dealt so long with these feelings and where they come from. And I am learning to look at these thoughts, just as I am looking at my body, with no judgement or expectations but rather love. That's it. Just love.
I am so incredibly blessed to have a husband that loves and adores me for who I am. And that is perfect because I love him just the same. For who he is. But at the end of the day, it is no one else's job to fill up my love cup to the brim but me.
It begins with self-love. And just like I can't fill up anyone else's cup, I can help pour a few ounces at a time into it. Sometimes it helps to have someone who has nothing but love for us to top us up a bit when our cup is a bit low that day. You know the slow drip coffee maker that takes forever to fill a cup up? Those are the best kind. Because in the process of waiting and anticipating what you know will be a very savoured and delectable cup of joe, you are forced to be in the moment. And when that cup is finally full, you relish and take in every moment of it. It tastes so much better.
When we take the time to fill our own cup, I find that is when the cup stays full longer. And not only that, it means more. It's like the fancy, organic, grind yourself coffee beans that are way more money than the regular maxwell house cup. But when you splurge on those guys, you know you are in for a treat. That is self love. It means so much - the only difference is it doesn't cost anything. It is always at our fingertips, aching to be noticed. It is the voice that says you are enough.
And when you start dripping that dark roast of deliciousness into your cup, soon you notice it starts spilling over into other peoples cups. That's the beauty of it - you can never have enough. When we become fully, completely at peace and in love with who we are, it's almost instantaneous that that feeling and appreciate spills over into other aspects and other people in our lives.
All of this realization and gratitude coming from my memories of what it felt like to be 12 year old Angela. She still comes out every once in a while, her insecurities and confusion in the forefront of my mind but now I understand and respect where those feelings are coming from. And instead of shoving those away, I am learning to see them for what they are and face them. For every feeling, every thought, even if it's just a flicker, means something and is something to be respected.
More than anything, these last few months I am learning to not only love myself but also to love others with no conditions. No expectations. To support other women in ways that feed my soul. And in writing this post about my post pregnancy body and pre-teen insecurities, I only hope that it sparks other women to dig deep and begin to uncover any feelings they may have of themselves that are anything but perfect. And then to take it one step further and be brave and love yourself enough to change those thoughts - right now. You are worth every ounce of love and acceptance - first and foremost from yourself.
And if you find yourself in need of a hug, or if you want me to show you my post-baby body to show you how serious I am about self love and acceptance, I am here and willing.
So much love and support to all of you beautiful beings.
