The other day I was trying on a pair of slacks, and they just didn’t fit. I tried on another pair of pants. Those didn’t fit either. I’m wearing jeans of the same size, but they do fit. The difference in all of them is the cut and allowing for a round bottom. I found myself venting to my husband the other night, realizing that my thighs now have some curve to them and my butt is rounder, but my old hip hugger jeans don’t have room for round butts. Nor do my old low rise slacks.
I finally concluded, “I need to buy some new pants and accept my bigger butt.”
He calmly and wistfully volunteered, “It’s sad, but I miss your small butt. It’s what attracted me to you in the first place.”
Yeah. Let that sink in. As I was letting his words and sincere tone of confiding his true opinion sink in that moment, I realized I had a choice. I could feel the pain that was trying to stab me in the middle of my deepest insecurity or recognize that he was just telling me the truth. Can you guess what I did with my rational mind and emotions starting to run? I cried. Yes, I knew better than to take it personally, but I left the room and cried into my pillow. I do not have the butt, that my husband fell in love with.
The truth is I haven’t had it for a long, long time. Two pregnancies will do that to some women. After my first pregnancy, I had like no butt at all. It was just flat. When I had my second baby and my thighs widened. For the past year, I’ve been exercising regularly and eating well, but have a round, curvy butt and thighs. In reality, I look perfectly normal. But, I am not the same as I was when my husband and I got married.
I didn’t think this would bother me so much, but it did, and I finally realized why: I don’t love my body.
My body feels broken. There are parts with varicose veins, cellulite and stretch marks. I can look at my kids and say it is a miracle my body can do this. And it is, but it still doesn’t make me love my body.
The painful part of all of this is that it’s up to me to change my attitude. I have to fall in love with a body that is not the same when I felt beautiful for the first time at 17. I need to do this for myself, and for my daughter.
At 4-years -ld, she is starting to ask about what makes a woman pretty. When I was going out on a date with my husband, she told me I should wear shoes “with those pointy things on the bottom that make you taller.” I don’t usually wear high heels, but do have a few pairs in my closet. So, I realize the powerful role I get to play in showing and teaching my daughter how to love herself. How to feel beautiful no matter what people say about her shape.
The truth is that as a woman, our shape changes through the chapters in life. It’s up to us to be beautiful no matter what shape we are, from the inside out.