(This post just might be geared to women 35 and up. Or might appeal to anyone who feels like I do. Either way, you're welcome to it!)
Since we're almost at Memorial Day, I realized I could no longer put off buying a swimsuit for the season. My swimsuit style has been pretty plain for a few years now. I usually go with a full-coverage plain tank suit in blue or black. If I'm feeling frisky, maybe red. I may even get one or two and alternate. I live on the edge, what can I say.
And yes, I'm one of "those" women. I haven't worn a bikini since I was a teenager. I only wear shorts around the house and in my own yard. I swim in my suit sans t-shirt or any other cover, but I don't walk around without my cover-up when I'm out of the pool.
Am I ashamed of my body? No. But I'm fully aware that I don't look like I used to. Does that make me sad? Yes. Am I body-shaming here? No. And here's why......
When I'm talking about my body, I'm talking about MY BODY. Not yours. Not your daughter's and not your sister's. I have as much right to love, hate, criticize my body as anyone. Lately, it seems to me, that only very large women or very small women have decided they can discuss this. What about us in-betweeners?
I'll be loud and proud and put it out there. I'm a size 16. On good days I can be a size 14. On very, very good days I can be a size 12. Do those sizes matter to me? Yes, they do. Judge all you want, but most women I know feel good when they realize they've dropped a size or can squeeze into something they relegated to the dead zone of their closets. I'm not alone in that feeling.
I weighed 190 lbs at my last doc visit. At home I usually weigh about 185. Do those 5 lbs matter? Somedays yes. Other days, not so much.
I remember the days of being a size 5. It seemed like I was a size 5 forever. There was something about being size 5 that I loved. There was something perfect in that number for me. Several years back I gave my child's nanny some of my old clothes, including my beloved old prom dress. Good guess, it was a size 5! I felt sad giving it away, but then I realized I was holding onto some old dream of myself. And then I realized how beautiful this 19 year-old girl would look in it. (She wanted to wear it clubbing.....adorbs.) Knowing my prom dress would keep on rocking upon another girl's body made me happy.
I don't hate younger, skinnier or prettier women. Well, maybe on some days, but usually no. Do I miss being younger, skinnier and prettier? Of course I do! It doesn't mean I'm not happy now, but yes I do! And yes, I realize some of these standards were imposed upon us ladies by an unforgiving and unreal set of beauty standards. I have forgotten more of that history and belief system than you will ever know. But we also know what we like and what we think looks good. We all have our tastes. There's nothing wrong with that.
And for any hater who wants to storm in here and tell me that looks don't matter or I'm allowing the standards to claim me, here's a challenge for you. Scrub off your makeup, take out your piercings, cover your tattoos, put a grocery bag on your head and burlap sack on your body. Now leave the house. We all have things that make us feel confident and beautiful. Some natural and some not so much. But we ALL do it.
I had a coworker in the last few years who was just beautiful. She had many lovely features, but in my opinion the best were her legs. I always encouraged her to wear short skirts and dresses at work. I praised her shorty short pics on FB. What can I say? I'm a leg woman! I kept telling her to show those stems off because one day they might not look as awesome. Do I know that by accident? Do I miss my gorgeous 20 year-old legs? Why, yes. Yes, I do.
I tell women all the time how beautiful they are, and I mean it. I encourage younger girls. I believe in body positivity. But I also think it's okay to be real about our bodies. I posted something recently on FB and got a shit storm of people accusing me of body shaming. Well, maybe not a shit storm, but it did bother me. It bothered me because it didn't give me the right to feel how I felt about my own body. Not yours. Not your daughter's. Not your sister's. MINE.
And when we get right down to it, isn't that what body positivity is all about? You love yours. I love mine. We talk about it with honesty. We give each other our space. When I grieve about my long-lost lovely legs that is not your cue to jump in and tell me that my legs are still great. That's your cue to say "I hear ya, sista."
I promise, I'll do the same for you whenever you need it.
And if you're on the flip side of this in that you feel awesome all the time in everything you wear, all I can say is, you go, girl! And I mean that! On a good day (and you girls know the ones I mean) when I'm looking at myself and it's all working.....the hair, the breasts, the tummy, and even the legs.....I feel like I could rule the world. Does that go against my deeply-ingrained feminism? I hope not. Because it's the truth. And you can love this blog or hate it, but that's what it spews, people. Truth. And just like my aging legs, it belongs to me.
Since we're almost at Memorial Day, I realized I could no longer put off buying a swimsuit for the season. My swimsuit style has been pretty plain for a few years now. I usually go with a full-coverage plain tank suit in blue or black. If I'm feeling frisky, maybe red. I may even get one or two and alternate. I live on the edge, what can I say.
And yes, I'm one of "those" women. I haven't worn a bikini since I was a teenager. I only wear shorts around the house and in my own yard. I swim in my suit sans t-shirt or any other cover, but I don't walk around without my cover-up when I'm out of the pool.
Am I ashamed of my body? No. But I'm fully aware that I don't look like I used to. Does that make me sad? Yes. Am I body-shaming here? No. And here's why......
When I'm talking about my body, I'm talking about MY BODY. Not yours. Not your daughter's and not your sister's. I have as much right to love, hate, criticize my body as anyone. Lately, it seems to me, that only very large women or very small women have decided they can discuss this. What about us in-betweeners?
I'll be loud and proud and put it out there. I'm a size 16. On good days I can be a size 14. On very, very good days I can be a size 12. Do those sizes matter to me? Yes, they do. Judge all you want, but most women I know feel good when they realize they've dropped a size or can squeeze into something they relegated to the dead zone of their closets. I'm not alone in that feeling.
I weighed 190 lbs at my last doc visit. At home I usually weigh about 185. Do those 5 lbs matter? Somedays yes. Other days, not so much.
I remember the days of being a size 5. It seemed like I was a size 5 forever. There was something about being size 5 that I loved. There was something perfect in that number for me. Several years back I gave my child's nanny some of my old clothes, including my beloved old prom dress. Good guess, it was a size 5! I felt sad giving it away, but then I realized I was holding onto some old dream of myself. And then I realized how beautiful this 19 year-old girl would look in it. (She wanted to wear it clubbing.....adorbs.) Knowing my prom dress would keep on rocking upon another girl's body made me happy.
I don't hate younger, skinnier or prettier women. Well, maybe on some days, but usually no. Do I miss being younger, skinnier and prettier? Of course I do! It doesn't mean I'm not happy now, but yes I do! And yes, I realize some of these standards were imposed upon us ladies by an unforgiving and unreal set of beauty standards. I have forgotten more of that history and belief system than you will ever know. But we also know what we like and what we think looks good. We all have our tastes. There's nothing wrong with that.
And for any hater who wants to storm in here and tell me that looks don't matter or I'm allowing the standards to claim me, here's a challenge for you. Scrub off your makeup, take out your piercings, cover your tattoos, put a grocery bag on your head and burlap sack on your body. Now leave the house. We all have things that make us feel confident and beautiful. Some natural and some not so much. But we ALL do it.
I had a coworker in the last few years who was just beautiful. She had many lovely features, but in my opinion the best were her legs. I always encouraged her to wear short skirts and dresses at work. I praised her shorty short pics on FB. What can I say? I'm a leg woman! I kept telling her to show those stems off because one day they might not look as awesome. Do I know that by accident? Do I miss my gorgeous 20 year-old legs? Why, yes. Yes, I do.
I tell women all the time how beautiful they are, and I mean it. I encourage younger girls. I believe in body positivity. But I also think it's okay to be real about our bodies. I posted something recently on FB and got a shit storm of people accusing me of body shaming. Well, maybe not a shit storm, but it did bother me. It bothered me because it didn't give me the right to feel how I felt about my own body. Not yours. Not your daughter's. Not your sister's. MINE.
And when we get right down to it, isn't that what body positivity is all about? You love yours. I love mine. We talk about it with honesty. We give each other our space. When I grieve about my long-lost lovely legs that is not your cue to jump in and tell me that my legs are still great. That's your cue to say "I hear ya, sista."
I promise, I'll do the same for you whenever you need it.
And if you're on the flip side of this in that you feel awesome all the time in everything you wear, all I can say is, you go, girl! And I mean that! On a good day (and you girls know the ones I mean) when I'm looking at myself and it's all working.....the hair, the breasts, the tummy, and even the legs.....I feel like I could rule the world. Does that go against my deeply-ingrained feminism? I hope not. Because it's the truth. And you can love this blog or hate it, but that's what it spews, people. Truth. And just like my aging legs, it belongs to me.