This Is The Beautiful Story Of My Body

July 23, 2018



Before I start this article I want to admit something. There are some days that I hate how I look. All I can see when I look in a mirror is my flaws, staring at me. All I can see is bad teeth, a giant nose, a fat belly, oddly spaced boobs, and fat legs. Of course, if I'm being honest with myself these moments of self-hate usually come after binge-consuming some kind of social media where everyone looks beautiful and flawless. But anyway, I have those days.

I try to make sure that I am keeping those thoughts in check and don't let myself stay in that kind of funk for too long because I am beautiful and I am strong, and I am perfect, flaws included. I think staying on top of your own body positivity is important, which is why I'm making this post, but I just wanted to clarify that you can be gentle with yourself. You don't need to expect to love yourself every single moment of every single day. It takes work and practice.

So in my journey to love myself and my body the way that it is, I've started to think about my body as a story. Every mark, every roll is a chapter in the story of my life.

I have scars on my knees, which tell the story of when I totaled my car in the first and only car crash that I've been in. I got smashed in the side and the car spun around and went up on the curb. A pole went through the windshield and stabbed through the passenger seat. I was in shock and called my mom to tell her that I was in a crash but was okay and was going to walk my groceries home. She told me not to be silly and showed up within five minutes and I bawled. I needed my mom.

I have stretch marks on my thighs. They tell the story of my first marriage when I was so unhappy and so full of pain that I ate to cover the pain and gained around 50 pounds, very quickly, and my skin had to stretch quickly to compensate for the new weight.

My calloused and cracked feet are the chapter in my life where I ran at 5am every single morning as a way to deal with the stress and anxiety of ending my marriage.

The jiggle in my stomach tells the story of date nights with Jesse where we ate delicious foods like lobster poutine, garlicy artichoke dip and drank delicious bottles of wine.

My love handles are from the chapters in my story where I tested brownie, cheesecake and cake recipes to find my perfect go-to ones.

I have lines that are starting to form around my face. They're laugh lines that are the story of every joyous moment, every joke that filled me with mirth.

And my nose. That big nose that I hated my entire childhood. It's the story of where I came from. It's the genes that are in me. The genes of the parents that loved me and cared for me and did everything that they could to encourage me to be a kind and intelligent woman.

So go ahead and stand in front of a mirror, stark naked, and take a look at the story of your life. Embrace it. It's a beautiful story. It's a story of heartache and of joy. It's a story of of triumph and failures. It's your story. No one else has your story. Embrace it and love it.