“We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.” – May Sarton
A recent conversation with one of my male friends made me question what transpired within me that enabled me to accept my body as it is. We were discussing the importance of women sharing their body acceptance journey with their partners. He believes having this insight can help their significant other understand how their present behaviors were established or influenced.
I am inclined to agree with him. So I thought it would be prudent for me to pinpoint the turning point in my journey.
When I was about nine-years-old, I was skinny and shaped like an ironing board—the complete opposite of what I look like now. But at some point, which seems like an overnight occurrence, every part of my body tripled in size. I remember my mother purchasing a training bra for me. Why were they called that? But I don’t remember wearing an A or even a B cup—I think I went straight to a C cup. Which, in retrospect, plays a role in explaining my thoughts and feelings of awkwardness when I was younger. I don’t think I fully processed the changes I was experiencing back then.
Between the ages of 11 and 17, I desperately wanted my body to be different. I wanted to wear clothes that were sold in the juniors’ department of Macy’s and Hect’s. But back in 1987, those stores didn’t have a junior plus-size line and Torrid didn’t exist. Don’t get me wrong, I had some fly gear from Gantos, Jean Nicole, and Hect’s misses department by the middle of my freshman year of high school. Thanks to my loving mother, this stylish beauty began to bud in the spring of 1991.
In spite of having a growing collection of cute outfits to accommodate my body type, I wasn’t comfortable with the way I looked. So much so, I wore a coat or jacket practically every day at school to cover my body. I didn’t begin to like my body until I turned 19.
I lost a significant amount of weight between the ages of 17 and 19. I gradually went from a size 16 to a size 10. I was finally able to shop in the juniors’ section of Macy’s and Hect’s. I also remember racking up on clothes on the clearance rack at the Banana Republic. And as my body changed, so did my mindset.
As I transformed physically, I began to like what I saw in the mirror; which, caused my self-esteem and self-confidence to improve. And as I aged, my weight increased along with my self-regard.
The weight changes I experienced were good for me. I needed to see myself as beautiful when I was in my late teens. I learned to like my body, and I gradually stopped comparing it to others. So when those size 10 Express jeans could no longer accommodate my body, I wasn’t shaken or convinced I wasn’t beautiful or attractive anymore. I accepted my body. I accepted myself.
Photo credit: Ryan “Rock” Mitchell
Now I am in my 40s and wearing a size 18, and I feel more comfortable and confident in my skin than I did when I was 19. I’ve truly embraced the fact that I am fearfully and wonderfully made—and I’m also foxy and tempting.
Although I found it hard to cope with my differences or uniqueness when I was younger, I’m grateful for it. I wouldn’t be the person I am today with the ability to recognize the importance of seeing myself as wonderful even when others don’t. I don’t expect or hope for acceptance from anyone but me.
Don’t misunderstand me, I like being told I’m attractive, beautiful, and sexy—but, I’m glad I don’t need the affirmation in order to see it for myself.
Until the next time be you—but more important—love you.
Being uniquely you is being uniquely beautiful.
-B.B. 💋
