Circa 1993. Just because, you're welcome. And yes, those are bloomers under my gloriosa floriosa what-was-the-deal-with-the-collar-osa dress. Please don't even ask me about the haircut. I think it was the process of my mullet (and, no that's not rhetoric, I mean an actual mullet) growing out, but I just can't even... all the angles... in all the wrong places...
I was in NC visiting my parents this past weekend - which was great, by the way - and maybe it was a flashback to high school me or middle school insecurities or maybe it was just purely the fact that someone else was watching my toddlers and I had more than a hot second to throw on clothes before someone ate something they weren't supposed to, but I found myself, after my shower one morning, standing in front of the full-length mirror, critiquing what I didn't like about my body:
... Hips that were too big.
... Extra skin left on my stomach, after having both boys, that never resettled quite right.
... Leftover skin discoloration that never fully recovered from pregnancy mask.
... Remnants of acne that's been there
... Pale New England skin that hasn't gotten any sun yet (and won't for a few more months).
I could go on, but we'll stop there for now...
Because I have to be honest with you - when I was in high school, and even early after college, I struggled immensely with body image and my ability to feel or to be "feminine enough" whatever that means. I was never any good at doing my hair or make-up - and still to this day, have very little "fashion sense" at least as it is typically perceived. I often felt like I was not beautiful. Often felt like I wasn't "girly" enough. And often struggled with body image. And while my list of "imperfections" is different now al la baby birthing and mothering, the concept was very similar - I would list and stare endlessly, nitpicking details, always feeling insufficient and not pretty. And then hold up some impossible image and berate myself over it. Try to fix or change myself so that I fit into whatever the model was that I didn't feel like I had achieved.
But in the years since then, especially after getting married, and having the boys - I haven't struggled with body image nearly as much. And so it felt weird, honestly, to have those thoughts again.
And weird enough that it made me stop and wonder why all of a sudden I was seeing myself - rather, seeing my body, because "myself" is more than just a body - so critically again.
Quite frankly, I don't think those thoughts are worth my time.
Reality is - I wear a smaller pants size now than I did when I started college. I weigh the same as I did before S was born. My big feet somehow, weirdly, shrunk after pregnancy. I have a healthy BMI, eat relatively healthily except not really, exercise regularly, and I'm in good shape, especially for having had two kids. And whether it's fashionable or not, I've figure out "my look" far more than I ever had before. And in general, I like how I look and am contented in my appearance, even in its quirkiness.
And so I stopped - took a selfie - and thought about it. And here's where I landed...
--
When we spend lots of time looking at our bodies, we will find things to critique. One of the things that I realized - somewhat comically - is that our apartment in Boston has a grand total of two mirrors. One, above the bathroom sink, with which you can see from armpit to head-top; the other in our room, poorly lit, on my bureau, which gives you a view roughly to the knees, if you angle just right and metaphorically speaking, balance on one leg. The reality, plain and simple, is that most of the time at home, I don't spend a lot of time examining the minutia of my body and I am far more content in it. This does mean that occasionally I leave the house with slime all over me, or weird stains, or make-up that doesn't blend perfectly - and very v.e.r.y. rarely, a skirt tucked into my underwear - but I'm hoping that those are the exception not the rule. And, honestly, it's an exchange that has led to more happiness, even if occasionally it also leads to laughter over an embarrassing moment as well.
Mirrors aren't a bad thing in general, but I have found it to be true that except when used as a means to reflect light or beauty back to and around us, they rarely lead to more happiness. And time staring at ourselves in them almost never does.
Instead, and perhaps to substitute for better mirrors, I often times ask Jon how I look - or to help me fix an outfit or double check a color combination. I am incredibly blessed to have a husband who has more fashion sense than I do, is gracious and honest, helpful, and somehow still affirming as well. Moreover, he loves me deeply, unconditionally, and truly, for who I am, how I am. I am a lucky woman, truly I am. And it might be one of the very few reasons that I don't have more of the aforementioned embarrassing moments. But beyond that, when the makeup is off, my hair is a mess, and the clothes are in the hamper for the night - he is far more gracious and accepting of my body than I am. Sees far fewer of its "flaws" and scrutinizes it far less than I do for "future renovations." And my boys - well they just think it's cool that mommy has arms that can pick them up, hair that they can endlessly tangle, a lap that still fits them both, and enough energy to keep up with them most days. They could care less about my extra skin or pale pale-ness.
And I had the "ah ha" moment, in my old high school bedroom considering my newly-minted-30+ year old grown-up body with the extra skin and the uneven skin tone and wider hips - that I am far more peaceful in my body that I ever was before, because I have learned to see it more through the eyes of someone who loves me as I am, than through my own self-critical lens.
Love, loving, and being loved, are often correctly identified as beauty.
And there is nothing more stunning than someone who knows that they are deeply and profoundly loved. And there is nothing more confident or assured - and appealing, honestly - than someone who loves themselves - not in a narcissistic way, but in the sense of - they actually like who they are and aren't trying to be someone that they're not.
It's not a secret to happiness - certainly happiness is far more than that. And it's not even a secret to health - certainly healthy requires our actions for exercise and good diet in addition to our healthy mindsets and perspectives on ourselves. [As an aside, I think a healthy perspective on exercise actually doesn't tie it to how we look, but how we feel - and doing it for the sake of health, rather than for the sake of appearance, for ourselves not for others, for life with others rather than our own ego security, but that's less the point]. But for me, it was an noteworthy realization -
I am happier with my appearance when I look at myself less and when I look at myself through the eyes of someone(s) who love me unconditionally - not when I "have arrived" or look a certain way.
And while that is incredibly simple, for me, it was profound.
Also, mirrors should be hung in places to reflect light and beauty, not to define, measure, or critique.
- KD
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