My body IS a wonderland

Ok, all of my delightful readers. It's time to chat. But first, I want to show you a few things:

This is all what is considered "thinspiration." The "nothing tastes" quote is actually available embroidered on pillows, printed on t-shirts, and even as a HUGE vinyl decal to put on the front of your fridge.

I consider it a part of an even bigger, over all, problem. Something known as "body shaming."

"Body shaming is defined as inappropriate negative statements and attitudes toward another person's weight or size. It can also reach into the discrimination against individuals who may be overweight. In particular, there are negative attitudes in the media and elsewhere about celebrities who are "too fat" or who have not gotten rid of "baby weight" in an appropriate amount of time. A backlash against body shaming has resulted in the coining of the term itself and attempts to bring a more positive attitude toward diverse body sizes and styles." (From this site) 

Now let me show you one more thing:

Is it any wonder that we have unreal expectations of beauty? 

This morning I read a post from a female body builder. She mentioned that there are people who have attacked her for her shape, size, and choice to be a body builder. I looked through a few of her Facebook photos and for every positive comment there was a negative one to match. This woman was beautiful, and yet she was getting called ugly over and over again. 

Why? Why is our culture so obsessed with how we, and other people look?  Was this woman hurting anyone with the way she looks? 

We all do it, and I'm no exception. I'll look at people in the grocery store and think, "Really? That was her best choice for what to wear today? She does know that shirt is meant for someone half her size, right?" But it's wrong, and it's mean, and it doesn't help anyone.And yet, how can we expect to accept anyone else for the way they look when we can't even accept ourselves.

 I'm a big girl, anyone who looks at me can see that right away. I don't consider myself fat or ugly, but according to society's standards of acceptable beauty, I am both of those things. I fall into the obese range on the BMI scale (don't even get me started on that can of worms!). My nose is too long. I have carried and birthed two babies, both over 9 pounds, so I have some serious loose skin and stretch marks. I have enormous feet. My hips are wider than my ribcage. I most definitely don't have a thigh gap, visible hip bones, a flat stomach, or toned arms. And all of that is okay!  I have a beautiful spirit and the body that contains it reflects that. This body is mine. No, it isn't perfect, but it is beautiful.    

We are our own worst critics.

So, today, I am sending out a plea to women everywhere. Stop it!  Stop the shame, the hate, and the anger. Love your body, because it is yours!  Take care of it to be healthy, not because you are ashamed of how you look. Look another woman in the eyes and tell her how beautiful she is (and mean it!). And ladies, when someone tells you how beautiful you are, just say thank you. Don't brush off the compliment. Don't immediately put yourself down. Because, you want to know a secret? You are beautiful!  Tall, short, thin, fat, muscular, blonde, brunette, freckled, disproportionate, it doesn't matter. Join the "Love Your Body" revolution. 

The Women we Become After Children

"We change shape, we buy low-heeled shoes, we cut off our long hair. We begin to carry in our bags half-eaten [snacks], a small tractor, a shred of beloved fabric, a plastic doll. We lose muscle tone, sleep, reason, perspective. Our hearts begin to live outside our bodies. They breathe, they eat, they crawl and-look!-they walk, they begin to speak to us. We learn that we must sometimes walk an inch at a time, to stop and examine every stick, every stone, every squashed tin along the way. We get used to not getting where we were going. We learn to darn, perhaps to cook, to patch the knees of dungarees. We get used to living wtih a love that suffuses us, suffocates us, blinds us, controls us. We live. We contemplate our bodies, our stretched skin, those threads of silver around our brows, our strangely enlarged feet. We learn to look less in the mirror. We put our dry-clean-only clothes to the back of the wardrobe. Eventually, we throw them away. We school ourselves to stop saying 'shit' and 'damn' and learn to say 'my goodness' and 'heavens above'. We give up [parties], we colour our hair, we search the vistas of parks, swimming pools, libraries, cafes for other of our kind. We know each other by our [strollers], our sleepless gazes, the beakers we carry. We learn how to cool a fever, ease a cough, the four indicators of meningitis, that one must sometimes push a swing for two hours. We buy [cookie] cutters, washable paints, aprons, plastic bowls. We no longer tolerate delayed buses, fighting in the street, smoking in [public], sex after midnight, inconsistency, laziness, being cold. We contemplate younger women as they pass us in the street, with their cigarettes, their makeup, their tight-seamed dressed, their tiny handbags, their smooth, washed hair, and we turn away, we put down our heads, we keep on pushing the pram up the hill."

The Hand that First Held Mine

by Marrie O'Farrell

Ask any mom you know and she will tell you that this is the truth... and that she wouldn't change it for the world. 

Sixlets

#6- What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?

I've been thinking a lot about this one. We all experience hard things everyday. When compared to other peoples' hard things, mine are fairly small. But that's the thing, we can't compare our hard things to anyone else's. They are our own, and the way they affect us and shape our lives make us the people that we are. Anyway, back to my hard thing...

I've written a few times about how having a baby changed me. Anyone who even semi-follows this blog knows that I suffer(ed) from postpartum depression. For the first few weeks after I had the Sharkbaby it took everything I had just to get through each day. Honestly, there are some days that I probably wouldn't have made it out of bed if my mom hadn't stopped on her way in to work to make me get up.

Every step I took felt like it drained me of any energy. Every time the baby cried, I would cry right along with him. There were many times I considered just running away. Anywhere had to be better than where I was. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't even smile. My world was gray, and not just because it was January.

For a little while after Sharkleton was born, I lost myself. I didn't know who I was anymore. I was just floating along from moment to moment, day to day, waiting for things to get better. And that was terrifying. It took me so long to find myself, that to have that identity stripped away broke me.

And that is the hardest thing I have ever experienced. The losing, and subsequent rediscovery, of myself. Becoming a mom changed me in ways that I never could have expected. It is hard, it is scary, and everyday brings something new and unexpected. But I can do hard things.