It's been a wandering thought in my head, that 200 years ago, we didn't have the mass media to take images of the most beautiful and symmetrical people and then put them everywhere. This increases our expectations that:
- We should look like that
- Looking like that is IMPORTANT
- Lots of people look like that
Well, lots of people don't. And they shouldn't have to feel it is important that they do. And the disappointment about this doesn't come from not being perfect it comes from the UNFULFILLED EXPECTATIONS that have been created by a false force.
We should just have to look as we are. I believe hairy legs and all, but I completely buckled under pressure on that one. Now I excuse myself by reminding myself that I like my Trickey's face shaven so if he likes my legs minus all that thick, dark brown hair, then it is a marital balance issue, not a caving in under peer pressure issue. Really. It is. Would you believe...
(To steal a favourite phrase from a friend) *getting off my soapbox*
Here is my I Heart My Body Post.
Three things I love about my body.
As a child, I said I liked my long, straight blond hair and my lovely green eyes with their cool dusky green border.
I still love my eyes, they are such a pretty light colour and the darker border is cool and gives them definition. They are a nice shape, with just a hint of a upward tilt at the outer edges.
I love my fingers. They are long and elegant, with callouses in all the right places for trapese.
I love my calves, for all their lovely strong muscle that gives them nice definition (and makes them too large to fit into my knee high boots, but, hey, I should give them to Princess! So gunna do that right now!) (She even paused playing Wii to make some comments, but I think this is not an exciting moment for her. But...but... they're SHOES!)
My body image was never very good. When I was at Uni, I often had to walk past many building sites and to be completely honest, the wolf whistles and inappropriate comments bolsters my self image. Sometimes, when I was having a bad day, I would go for a completely unnecessary walk past the building site.
After Baby Princess was born, it took two years to get my figure back to something I vaguely liked, but only when fully covered. I despaired about the big, saggy tummy I had to the point where I would be lying awake in misery much of the night. Now I can see this is a waste of time, but back then... well, I lacked confidence. When the Princess hit the Kinder era, I made a committment to give up Cleo and Cosmopolitan magazines. I spent my days with lovely women of all shapes, sizes and combinations. They were all pretty or attractive in some way.
(She has the 1960's knee high boots of dancing... she is pleased with how they slide over the floor. Makes all that effort wearing away the soles worthwhile... *grins*)
Another moment that improved my self image was at Circus, having a whinge about stretch marks. Mine go from halfway down my thighs to up past my belly button. (Impressively extensive, right?) How my skin will never be attractive again. Sob, sob, moan, whinge. And one of the younger men showed me how he has had stretch marks since he was a teenager undergoing a massive growth spurt. And I looked. And it didn't look terrible. It just looked... natural.
Princess and I are heading out to the sunshine now, to take a FULLY CLOTHED (No, I am so not that brave) picture of my body. Doing something my body likes to do. ;-)
Oh! OH! And I love my breasts! Not for how they look... but because they make splitting two hoops (so one is spinning around my chest and one on my waist) so much easier! ;-)