Like most women, when I was younger, I always strived to reach some impossible standard of what society conditioned me think was perfection. I never saw myself for how truly beautiful, strong, brave, smart, and passionate I really was because that’s not what girls are taught to do. We are taught from a very young age to look beautiful (by other people’s standards) and to strive to be polite, feminine, quiet, reserved, and eventually, chosen by some man. That’s our validation. That’s the goal. But that’s all bull.
I’m here to tell you that ladies, you are all beautiful (in different ways because different is beautiful) inside and out.
You can do hard things. Its OK not to be dainty, quiet, and reserved. I applaud you for being strong, smart, loud, and passionate but its OK to be quiet, too. Just like men, women come in all shapes, sizes, colors, talents and mental acuity. You are woman, I hear you roar!
I learned this as most wise women who know things do: the hard way.
As a woman who has suffered from body dysmorphic disorder since I was 12-years-old and spent roughly 10 years (high school through the college years) with active eating disorders (though like alcoholism it really is a lifelong illness), my body image has never been good. I used to strive for this unattainable standard of beauty.
I always wanted to be taller, thinner, lighter or darker. In short, I always wanted to be something other than I was because what I was a white Latina, freckled Mexican girl who was tall and gangly and just as fast, hairy, and curvy. Nothing looked as anyone expected and least of all as I wanted. I spent most of my late teens and 20s in a perpetual state of disappointment.
On top of everything else, thanks to the body dysmorphic disorder, I couldn't even trust what I saw in the mirror (in fact, according to my therapist, I still can't) but after having my daughters, that all changed. I began to see the world from a new perspective.
I gave birth to these two beautiful and perfect human beings.
In that moment, three things happened 1) I realized I couldn’t be all that bad if I made those two. 2) I knew I didn't want them to suffer from the same issues I'd struggled with. 3) I couldn't imagine any mother's daughters not being perfect.
That gave me the grace to give to others, and more importantly, grace to give myself. It was slow and is still an ongoing process but eventually, I stopped caring (at all) what other people thought of me, relinquished control of trying to be perfect and, as my daughters grew, I forgave myself for my perceived imperfections and in doing so began to love my body for all that it does, not for its perceived shortcomings.
Now, when I look in the mirror, I see all that my body has done for me and given to me.
Maybe I'm not 103 lbs. anymore (no grown women who’s 5’7” probably should be), maybe I have stretch marks from giving birth, things sag from usage and gravity, and maybe I'm not the size I think I should be, but I’m alive. I love my body; it gave me my daughters, my husband thinks I'm sexy as hell, and I am strong. This body gets things done and it has been broken and bent and it has recovered.
My body is not just something pretty for people to look at, it brings miracles forth into the world and it can do anything I set my mind to and that is an empowering self-image.
I feel more beautiful, confident, and empowered now than I ever did at 103 lbs. In reality, happiness is not a number on a scale or on a tag in your pants, it’s in the ability to love yourself for all that you are and forgive yourself for what you are not and that is truly being beautiful. Beauty is a state of mind and only you have the power to decide.
