Liz
When Meg asked me to write about my relationship with my body, I faltered. To write about that subject would imply that I have a relationship with my body – that I understand our particular dynamic. The truth is, my body and I have been no more than expectant acquaintances for many years. My body has expected that I generally make good decisions and keep her safe, and I have expected my body to show up and do what she is told. That dynamic has worked fairly well for the vast majority of my life – it worked well enough that I never questioned it for more than a passing thought.
Over the past few years, I started hearing more about self-love and following different empowered women on social media that intrigued me. I assumed, because I had never done anything inherently negative to myself, that I automatically belonged to the self-love movement. But, the more I followed and observed those people, the more I realized that I was missing the main aspects of self-love and acceptance. While others radiated joy and gratitude and power, I radiated… assumed expectations? That couldn’t be right.
So, I started observing the way I interacted with my body, trying to find the disconnect. Trying to tease out what society and culture has imprinted on my brain regarding bodies and compare it to what I think and feel. Trying to really listen to the automatic thoughts that came through my mind when I stood in front of a mirror. The realization slowly dawned on me that contrary to my own belief, I was not in the self-love club. Far from it. I discovered that as a type A perfectionist personality, my body has been my constant target of control regarding being too much or not enough throughout my entire life. I have spent years doing what I could to make myself fit in the ever-changing mold or berating myself for coming in off the mark. Unfortunately, that behavior has been so normalized that I didn’t realize what I was doing.
It wasn’t until I participated in Satsia Savasuk’s Style School that I realized how convoluted and toxic my relationship with myself has been. Stasia’s course was a lot more about the baggage we carry with us as women and tuning into who we are as individuals and how we want to show up in the world, than about what clothes to wear. Through different reflections and activities, I realized that while others see and describe me as thoughtful and kind, I am rarely that to myself. In fact, it turns out that have a relationship with my body, and I was a bully.
When I think about the time and energy, I have spent mentally berating myself for being too much or not enough, it makes my heart hurt. I have never been a person who looked in the mirror or down at my body and thought, “Oh yes, I am beautiful”. Instead, I would take myself in and think, “That’s fine. Still room for improvement”. Or, I would simply avoid a mirror all together. As a woman, we are conditioned to be self-effacing and humble. To wave away compliments and lump self-confidence under being conceited. To carry shame with us like a security blanket. I never thought it was appropriate for me to embrace and celebrate my body. While I have reveled in watching other women standing in their bodies with joy and gratitude and power, I didn’t think I deserved it.
The realization that I have been my body’s worst bully for 30+ years has been humbling. It has taken time and intention to break down those thoughts. It took Stasia pointing out that our bodies have never intentionally bullied or hurt anyone for me to realize the ridiculousness of my own bullying. Why was I yelling at my legs? They haven’t done anything to anyone. In fact, they are pretty great legs. They get me from place to place, they dance, they run. Shouldn’t the golden rule also apply to how we treat ourselves? Shouldn’t it start there so we really know how it feels when we hurt someone else and the importance of being kind to oneself?
Food for thought.
As far as my current relationship with my body, I would say we are dating, and it is going well. I am remembering to say please and thank you, suspending judgment, and really tuning into negative thoughts to stop them before they get going and reframe my thinking. I am learning to be nicer to myself. We all know that relationships are hard and take work, and I shouldn’t expect my relationship with my body to be any different. Not every day is a good day. There are days that I do not feel abundant love for my body. Days when it is still feels more like tolerance than acceptance or celebration. On those days I at least try to get to a place of gratitude for my body.
Thank you legs, for travelling so far today.
Thank you arms, for participating in that sweet hug.
Thank you belly, for surprising me with that giant chuckle that came from way down.
Participating in this photoshoot was a way for me to flex the brave muscle and practice being in my body with joy and gratitude and power. It was a freeing and thrilling experience, though still challenging. At one point, Meg directed me to put my arm over my belly for a couple shots. Looking at the resulting photo, I felt a wave of sadness, realizing how seldom I touch myself with tender intention. Realizing there is still work to be done. Under that sadness I also felt determination. Determination to keep getting to know myself and keep practicing kindness.
When I look at these photos, I feel glimmers of sexy and hints of confidence. I feel the sneaking suspicion that I just might be a bade ass babe. Most of all, I feel grounded. These photos allow my mind to clear from all the noise circulating from societies imprinted expectations, my own internal whirring, cultural conditioning – and focus on me. A woman, in her body. A body that does what bodies do. A woman settling in to love and confidence.
I can’t thank Liz enough for offering up her body and her thoughts to my platform. It’s a vulnerable thing, putting yourself out there - and I never take that lightly. 🌻
