My body. I have a love/hate relationship with it. It’s growing on me though. I used to only feel hate for it when I looked in the mirror. Now I can already be in total awe of it as well sometimes and whisper sweet words into my skin. But it’s also growing on me literally. I’ve gained a lot of weight in the past year. Again.
In the past 10 years, I’ve been changing clothing sizes between Extra Small and Extra Large and on the most extreme days the extra small would be too big (this has been a long time ago now though) and the extra large too small. The diversity of pieces in my closet of clothes I’m not able to wear and the stretch marks on my thighs are the scary proof of that.
The awful thing is, I can’t remember I was EVER happy with my weight. I always felt too large, it didn’t matter what size I had. This realisation makes me sad sometimes.
And as people can observe me now, they’d see me overweight and would suggest me to just go on a diet and lose the extra weight.
And I can tell them I know all about healthy cooking, green juices, fasting, hot-yoga, etc. But then why am I not able to buy jeans in a Zara store? Because I also know everything about food addiction, emo-eating, eating disorder, hormonal imbalance and storing my body-fat as a protection layer for emotional trauma. I, for example, noticed that after a new traumatic experience, I’m not changing my diet, but still gaining weight rapidly. You see the connection here between stress hormone cortisol and the weight gain? Not trying to make up excuses here, just sharing my observations. I used to not only take responsibility for how I looked, but also the BLAME.
So the real question I would love for people to ask me is not how I can lose weight, but how I can embrace and love myself for how I AM at this moment.
The kilos will come and go on the way, but am I willing to keep my heart and eyes closed for myself in the process?
Beauty is so relative. About 400 years ago, the famous painter Rubens would have begged me to be his muse with the body I have now and when I was in Marocco I got harassed all the time on the street, learning that I have an extremely desirable body type for the local culture. It’s so interesting that the thing that I feel shame about is not an absolute truth. It’s a conviction that ‘big is not beautiful’ from the society I live in and most of all myself.
Sometimes when I get friend zoned by a date I’m completely crazy about, I wonder if how I look has anything to do with that. And the truth here is, it might. But waiting until I lose weight to tell myself I’m worthy of love is not fair. Because when is it enough? What standard should I meet before I’ve earned a loving partnership?
Two weeks ago, I got naked with a bunch of people, and this most beautiful woman stands up. She’s got a body I would beg for and I felt a bit intimidated by her beauty. Later she walked over to me and her first words were: “Wow, I think you’re such a beautiful woman, I so love your body and all your curves, I’m so jealous!!!” with eyes that were shooting sunrays of love while she stood there.
Beauty is relative. There are so many ways of looking at myself. And I’m tired of being discontent with it all the time and chasing change. So I choose every day to love my body a little bit more, just how it is. Right here, right now.
I AM BEAUTIFUL.