I've got quite a butt.
And my hips are, shall we say, very conducive to child
bearing.
I play roller derby, so my thighs are nice and thick. I'd like to
think they're all muscle, but I'd be kidding myself.
I've also been pregnant once, so I've got a bit of a pooch, and my
boobs are huge (30F) and no longer glorious.
But hey, I'm actually ok with all of that.
In fact, I let the entire city of Portland see my naked body during the World
Naked Bike Ride last Saturday, and I was damn proud of how I looked. I wasn't
ashamed, self-conscious (well, maybe a tiny bit at first), or embarrassed. For
the first time in my life, I was proud of my less than perfect body and I was
ready to show it.
How did I get there? How did I, someone
who has always either been on some kind of diet or wracked with guilt and shame
for not sticking to one, finally feel good about myself and proud of myself
enough to stop hiding my body?
It's been a very long time coming, and all
it took was one afternoon watching a model get body painted to turn my whole
view around.
I spent the last 7 years of my life being
in a relationship that was not good for my self-esteem. I tend to be
air-headed, flighty, forgetful, and a bit messy and disorganized. I can't cook
for shit, unless I have a recipe in front of me, and even then the food is
palatable at best. Unfortunately, I was married to a man who had very
old-fashioned ideals about what marriage should be like, and I tried my hardest
to fit into that mold he set for me. To him, I was continually failing to live
up to the standards he set for me. I was expected to keep the house clean,
meals cooked, and have sex with him whenever he wanted it. I did not belong to
myself, I belonged to him. In his defense, he was never abusive. He didn't
physically hurt me or call me blatantly horrible names, and for the most part he
was loving and treated me well enough, but he was still controlling and
manipulative. Years of constantly falling short of someone I loved started to
chip away at what little self-esteem I started with. I hated looking in the mirror;
I hated taking showers and having to wash my disgusting body. Attempting to
dress up and feel better usually ended up in me dissolving into tears and
changing back into my pajamas. I was a mess. This spring, I left that
relationship, and shortly after, entered into a new one.
I assisted my new fella, the creator and
editor of a Portland-based magazine, in securing an interview with a body
painter I had met during one of my derby league's fundraisers. Being the self-conscious
person I was, the thought of volunteering myself for this project was brief and
fleeting. I figured there was no way my body could look good being painted like
that, as it requires the model to be naked. (i.e. no Spanx to hold everything
together!) However, over the 6 hours it took to paint her from start to finish,
I started thinking very heavily about what I was seeing and feeling, and my
epiphany started taking shape. The model being painted was gorgeous; she had an
amazing, athletic body and talked with pride about how much weight she could
squat in one set. She was tight and toned all over, and clearly had the perfect
body for being painted up. To my surprise, as the afternoon progressed, it
became clear that she still had her own hang ups about what she looked like. I
got to thinking, how could this beautiful woman have the body most people would
envy, and yet still not feel "perfect"? We are all so critical of
ourselves, and we manage to find flaws where there are none. Why is that? What
are we afraid of? Why are we hiding? I decided that day that I would not hide
anymore. I broke up with the diet I was on. I stopped obsessing about my weight.
I decided for myself that I am good enough for me, and I was done trying to
impress people I would never meet. I was done killing myself to make others
feel more comfortable with my appearance. I emailed Matt and said I would love
to be a body painting model, and in return he said he would love to paint me.
He said everyone has a perfect body for painting, because in the end, it's all
art and bodies are beautiful.
My fella truly and honestly sees me as beautiful, not only
physically, but he sees my potential, my drive, and my personality as amazing and
inspiring. He encouraged me to participate in the Naked Bike Ride, and is
thrilled that I want to be a body painting model. He's watched me grow from
someone who would cover parts of herself with her arms to hide her flab, to
someone who proudly struts around the streets of Portland naked, with nothing
to hide. That confidence and pride is incredibly sexy. Breaking free of the
relationship that broke me started me on this path to self-discovery. Don't get
me wrong, I still have hang-ups from time to time, but I can laugh at how
ridiculous they are now. I take care of my body. I eat what I want, in
moderation. I stay active by playing roller derby, belly dancing, riding my
bike, and going on walks with my kiddo instead of busting my ass at the gym. I
am worth more than my looks or my housewife abilities. This life is a wonderful
life, and I am done wasting it worrying about my body fat percentage and
counting calories.
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