I found this interesting, because it’s soooo right. Notice for all the talk about loving her stretch marks, there is not only not a picture of her OWN stretch marks, but there are no pictures of any stretch marks at all!
Yeah, so, hot 16 year olds don’t have them and I do. Lots of them. Serious ones. I look like I need my belly ironed, actually. I look like a road map of New York State. So? Whatcha gonna do about it? Who’s looking anyway?
My stomach is my absolutely least favourite body part. I have a giant (and I mean giant, no kidding) surgical scar. It looks like I was shot, stabbed and then shot again in Reno, just cuz. It protrudes because of a post-surgical hernia. It’s tubby, and jellyish. No matter how much weight I lose, some things are just not going to change. So I should hate myself? Hate my middle? Hate that I had two kids? Not have had surgery? What? Because if you have a reasonable answer, I’d like to know. And keep in mind, I’m very fond of my kids.
The answer, of course, is that of course I don’t hate myself, or my belly. We are what we are, girls. At this age, no one likes: their loose chin, their upper arms, belly, or upper thighs. We’re not so elastic, anymore. Regardless of promises from beauty companies, nothing really restores that. It’s just aging, and – believe it or not – it’s okay. We’re told every day that it’s NOT okay, though! We’re supposed to look like we did when we were in our twenties, and so we wind up with all these terrified aging women who have endless plastic surgeries which only succeed in making them look completely bizarre.
So here’s a list. Make your own. Here’s stuff about physical me that I really like.
I have great legs, baby. Truly.
I have a full, luxuriant mane of hair. Yeah, some of it’s grey. So? It’s thick and shiny and gorgeous.
I have beautiful, long-fingered, accomplished hands.
I have really cute little shell ears. They don’t get seen that often because of my fantastic hair, but trust me, they’re adorable.
Also, to top it off, I’ve got a pretty nice rack, actually.
I’m just talking about physical, ornamental body stuff here. My insides are all in good working order, for which I’m thankful, of course, and I’m active and healthy. I’m just talking about the hand the Universe dealt me. I got some great stuff in this hand. I’m fantastically lucky. So, am I going to slap the Universe in the face for the stuff that I don’t like? That’s a little insulting.
So, to all of the Media who want me to hate myself – tough titties.
So, girls (and boys too) – make a little list of your good bits, and shake that stuff around a little. It’s all good. We’re all good.
And (thanks, Naomi M for showing me this) – put this on while you dance around: