How do you react when you notice changes, be they minor or significant, in your body? Does a new wrinkle make you panic? Stretchmarks make you lose your mind? Or, how do you feel when something just won't work the way it used to, like a bum knee or your circulation?
Today I'm going to talk to you about loving your body through the changes, something that I have experienced personally, and which I think all women can relate to given the seasons that our bodies are designed to encounter. I'd like to inspire a revolution of embracing change.
First, lets talk about the cosmetic changes- changes that are visible, but that do not cause any harm to your body. Changes that are strictly aesthetic.
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| Ah, to be a carefree kid again. Don't mind the hat. |
I'm not sure when they first appeared, but I've had stretch marks for far longer than I lived without them. I was one of those lucky girls who hit puberty a little bit earlier than her peers (and thank god I was a grade ahead age-wise, or the changes would have been noticed even more by my classmates than they already were). At age ten, I remember the day that a girl (who had been a good friend in fourth grade) snapped my bra strap while we were sitting in class. I was humiliated, not only because someone had done something mean (and loud) that drew attention to me (and my bra), but also because I felt ashamed of my budding breasts (a shame, mind you, that lingered well into my early twenties). Within two years, my body grew- my hips filled out, my breasts grew, and the rest of me became a bit overweight. Sadly, I was not blessed in the gene pool with elastic skin, so stretch marks formed over most of my body: the backs of my calves, my inner thighs, most of my stomach, my hips, my breasts, and the wing-bits of my arms. Puberty was not kind to me, and I've been left with reminders of that ever since.
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| At my skinniest, and in great shape underneath it all. |
Another change my body has encountered, the results of which I was entirely unprepared for, was significant weight loss. What people seem to not tell you is that some people may lose the way, but their skin does not shrink to fit the newly toned body. Loose skin means that shapewear is required for any tight-fitting dresses, and that pants will forever be a frustration, thanks to a perma-muffin-top. I have a weird pooch above my belly button that will never go away, unless I opt for plastic surgery, but I never will because I've already had a laparoscopic surgery in that region and that was all the surgery experience I need. When you lose weight, you kind of expect to end up with a tight, toned body and perky breasts- no one ever tells you that your body will look lived-in.
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| Hello eye-crinkles. |
Lately, though, the change I've noticed the most is the lines that have appeared on my face. Crinkles that show up every time I laugh or smile or squint in the sun. Lines around my mouth, like parentheses (as though my face know my tendency to over-use parentheses). Lines that can tell you just which faces I make the most often. These are the newest changes, and therefore the hardest changes, for me to accept about my body.
And as for the changes in function?
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| Post-half-marathon. |
Developing a knee injury while training for my first (and most likely only) half-marathon forced me to think about how I treat my body, even if what I am doing is for my own good. I used to love goal-setting and goal-getting, and running a half-marathon was going to be an easy way to fulfill that need of mine. I trained for months to walk/run those 13.1 miles, and up until race day, my body seemed ready. Unfortunately, mile 3 saw my knee tugging at me, and I was forced to hobble/joggle the remaining 10 miles. I was incredibly stubborn and refused to seek help- I wanted my medal, dammit! A stint of personal training showed me that weak glutes and hips had led to a tightened IT band, which is what cause my pain. It's an issue I still deal with, one that requires strength-training, and which means that I still don't run much further than 3 miles.
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| My foot at its least attractive and most painful. |
My other major change occurred when I was a month shy of 25 years old. While at my first real belly dance class, I looked down at my toes, which felt funny, and noticed they were white. Not pale-white from lack of sunshine, but white-white from lack of blood flow. My sister was in that class with me and I had her looks at my toes. How weird! A few more episodes and a Web MD search later, I determined I must have Raynaud's. My dad telling me that my grandmother and cousin both had/have it, and I was sold. A doctor's diagnosis (my toes had actually turned purple in his office), and it was official. I have Raynaud's- the primary kind. This means that even the slightest cool breeze (cool being anything lower than the current temperature) can cause the blood to stop circulating to my hands and feet. This then gives me a pins-and-needles feeling, sometimes numbness, and usually followed by burning when the blood returns. I've had lots of minor episodes, a few really bad ones (which even running my extremities under warm water didn't fix), and I am pretty much constantly trying to keep warm. This is by far the most difficult change I have faced, and while I know it doesn't compare to what some people go through, it's been hard for me. I used to be someone who overheated easily, and I still sweat more than I think is average. But going from being someone who could sit outside on cold pavement in January, to one who feels that anything below 75 is cold, is rough.
So, how have I loved my body through these changes?
As for the aesthetic stuff, I've reminded myself that physical beauty is not eternal. We all go through changes, and no one is immune. And change can be beautiful in itself. Those stretch marks are quite fascinating if you think about it- they now form pale, iridescent stripes along and around my body. They tell a story, one of change and triumph, and if I think of them as hugs, it's like they're hugging the bits of my body that need the extra love. As for extra flesh- that's another storyteller, victorious and strong in its own way. And wrinkles? They're evidence of lots of smiles and laughs, of enjoying this life I've been given.
And the functional changes? While they've been tougher to love, I have come to accept them and work with them. A bum knee means no more training for long runs, but instead doing physical activities that feel good to my body. It also means making sure that strength-training is a part of my life. And the Raynaud's- I keep fingerless gloves on me at all times, and prepare for any situation in which I may find myself cold. That means taking a blanket and warm, fuzzy socks to the movie theater, and wearing thick, warm boots most of the year (October through June in a bad year, through April in a good year). It means choosing function over fashion, most of the time. And keeping Little Hotties on hand at all times, in case of emergency.
Change is a part of life, and our bodies are great examples of that. Instead of fearing or rejecting change, I suggest we embrace the change and learn how we can love the changes our bodies experience. It's not easy starting a revolution.
What changes have you learned to accept in your body? How does change affect how you feel about yourself? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below.
Hey friends! Would you like to join in the conversation about loving your body? Next Monday, March 31, I will be joining Alicia of
Jaybird for a Love Your Body linkup! Since January, Alicia has created a series on her blog called Love Your Body Resolution, and she has posted some inspiring stories there. I am very excited to feature her here on my blog next week, and to link up with our fellow bloggers! For more details, and some prompts to inspire you, hop on over
here.
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