My Almost-40-Mini-Meltdown

It was one of those days that I’d done the very thing I told myself I wouldn’t. I took a photo of myself in my bikini & was picking myself apart. I didn’t like the thickness of my thighs, the broadness of my shoulders, the view of my not-so-tight tummy. Do photos actually add 10 pounds? This one looked as if it had.

My biggest fear is Hope not loving her body for all that it is & all that it’s not, at some point in her life, or for James to dissect his body in some way. My biggest fear is a lack of acceptance of what is & that is the very thing I struggle with. I never want my kids to feel less than or not good enough.

The kids were in bed. B hopped in bed, laid next to me, & asked me what was wrong. He has a way of knowing when I’m feeling not so good about myself. He urged me to be vulnerable & speak my truth. So I spilled my guts.

When I’m around my kids, I don’t talk about my body, negatively. I do talk about strength, building muscle, & staying fit.

Brian is my home, my safe place, the space where I can let go, be frank, & remain candid about the very things that make me most insecure & most fragile. I preach acceptance… & yet, I struggle to accept myself. I bleed vulnerability… & yet, I struggle being vulnerable, at times.

So, when it is just Brian & myself, I can let loose & he supports me, he keeps me grounded, & he let’s me be my true self.

“My thighs are fat. I’m turning 40 soon. My body has changed so much since having babies. I haven’t reached my goals. I’m only down 10 pounds, not 20. My shoulders are so broad.” I confessed with tears streaming down my face.

“Your legs are so strong!” B added.

See, Brian doesn’t get it. His body didn’t shift or become something completely different, postpartum. He’s weighed the same since high school. So he couldn’t really relate to my complaints. Plus, he’s 36- so, he just doesn’t get it. & when I told him so, he got mad & told me all about his own insecurities, confessed his deep-rooted vulnerabilities about work, & openly discussed that he gets the feeling of not-good-enough at times, too.

Through his frustration, he said, “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you & the way others see you, too.”

My husband has these beautiful moments of sweetness. It’s as though he knows exactly what to say at the precise time. & then he took my hand & said, “Come with me.” He led me to our teeny tiny bathroom that has a huge mirror on the wall. He asked me to remove my clothes. I went with it. He sat next to me.

Then he made a request, “Tell me what you see. Tell me what you like.”

I could feel my nervousness. It’s not often I look in the mirror for long periods of time, at my naked body, & discuss what I like about it. I see myself in passing. I took a very deep breath, “My lips. I like my lips.”

“What else?”

“I’m realizing that the vision of myself in my head is way worse than what I actually see in the mirror.”

Brian nodded.

“I see that you have a nice tan.” He noted.

“My boobs aren’t symmetrical anymore, they differ in size, & gravity has taken a toll on them.”

“& what did those breasts of yours allow you to do?” He asked.

“They fed our babies for two years each.”

“Yes, they did.” He added.

“I notice my tummy isn’t as flat or as smooth as it once was.”

“& what did that tummy do?”

“It grew two healthy babies.”

I gained 50 pounds with both of our babies, so you can imagine the amount of stretching that took place.

“Yes it did.”

“I like my tan.” I added.

I put my clothes back on.

“I can’t believe you went through that with me! I’m so proud of you! I didn’t think you were going to go through with it.” Brian smiled.

I love my husband for initiating that with me, for being a good listener, being a shoulder to cry on, & having an empathetic ear.

There have been so many things said about my body over the years that have stuck with me: “You need to grow an a**, You got the boobs & your sister got the brains, You have shoulders like a football player.”

All of those words have stuck with me. Many of them were said as a joke, but I didn’t take them as jokes. I held onto them. Being the impressionable girl that I am, words soak in & I sometimes have to determine if words spoken are my truth or someone else’s truth. There are times I have struggled knowing the difference.

The list continues, but none of it counts because what really counts is feeling good from the inside out. I work on that everyday.

My shoulder width won’t change. People can say what they wish & you’ll believe them or not, but what matters is how you respond to the voices (the ego) in your head.

The voices will always come, no matter what, but maybe we learn to not listen to them or maybe they become quieter over time.

This body loving journey is exactly that, a process. There are good & bad days. There are days I feel like a badass having grown two humans to full term & actually survived labor. There are days I see abs forming. There are days I can’t believe I’ve only lost 9 pounds since Dec. There are days that I can’t believe I’ve gained & lost so many times along the way. I still can’t believe that just two years ago, I was 16 pounds skinnier. It’s getting harder & harder for me to lose weight. Then I hear muscle weighs more than fat. So many thoughts run through my head.

Maybe this is my new norm. Maybe this body I have is here to teach me to love it’s imperfections. Maybe I won’t drop the weight until I learn all the lessons.

I struggle with all the apps to make things look ‘just so,’ social media sucks, magazines urge us to lose more, instagram filters help us mask our true essence, & those brightening & fantastic filters make us feel as though we have to hide who we really are, as if our as-is beauty isn’t beautiful enough, as if we are flawed somehow.

Spanx make us feel like we have to tuck our muffin tops away, as if having any rolls at all is unacceptable. There are hair extensions, boob jobs, lip injections, nose jobs, eyebrow microblading, Botox, fat freeezing techniques, & so on & so forth, all of which help us mask our reality & help us hide who we really are. Why do we have to change? What has society made us become? What are all of these services teaching us?

All of it makes it hard for us to face our make-up less faces & tell ourselves we are still pretty, to stand in front of a mirror & accept that our boobs may never ever look the same, that we may not have a thigh gap ever again, that rolls are a part of life, & more.

All of these things make it difficult for us to accept ourselves as we already are. Magazines contain air-brushed models & aren’t real, & yet, we buy into the hype by comparing ourselves against unrealistic & fake pictures of models. Comparison is the thief of joy. It will rob us. It has robbed me more than once.

My hope is to move towards acceptance & to truly learn to love the skin I’m in. It is a process & a journey that I’ll be on for life. I must learn to practice what I preach & to have the same compassion & love for myself, as I have for the very people I’m around.

To love yourself is the greatest gift you can give yourself & those around you. & so the journey continues. It’s about the process… not perfection. It’s about quieting the voices & learning that your truth speaks louder than your ego. Love yourself the way you love your loved ones. You’re worth it!