I have always had a healthy body image. At my heaviest (non-pregnancy) weight, pushing 200 pounds, I would laughingly say, "so, I'm a little teapot." I truly thought of myself as chunky, thick, fluffy, never chubby, and certainly never fat.
This is not to say that I thought I was skinny. I acknowledged that I needed to get in shape, but I still, always, have thought of myself as "cute."
Once, while living in McKinleyville, California for a year, I was jogging down the street, quite hefty, if I do say so myself, in a jogging bra and sweats. Yep, that's right, belly chunk for the world to see. I thought nothing of it. A car full of boys drove past me and one actually yelled out the window, "put a shirt on!"
The shame, right?
Wrong.
I just thought to myself, "rude! I mean I know I need to get in shape, but come on!"
This body image I've got is quite inexplicable. I've been surrounded my whole life by women who diet, fast, take pills, push their bodies to the limits, meanwhile I have always enjoyed my pancakes and cheeseburgers (not at the same time of course), balanced with a passionate love for fruits and vegetables. The only actual diet I ever tried was Atkins, and that was only because I loved meat and cheese so much it never even felt like a diet. But the overkill is pretty gross; I do not recommend it.
Now, looking back on my experiences with my body image, I can laugh at my boldness, my nonchalance, my indifference to what others thought of me while I was flaunting my big bad self.
My sister sent me a text message the other day: "I just looked in the mirror and thought, 'I'm cute!' Then I realized I am definitely your little sister!"
These kinds of revelations bring me joy. I want my daughter to grow up with a healthy body image. I hope I can always influence others to be comfortable within their own skin. Current times demand skinnier bodies and lower fat (lower flavor) foods, and I think it is ridiculous.
And today I realized just how much I've still got an inexplicable body image, and probably always will.
As I was drying off, stark naked in the bathroom after a bath, I caught a glimpse of my post-pregnancy body in profile, only having lost 35 of the 70 pounds I put on. This extra weight is not the solid, firm, heft I am used to carrying on my body. It is rolly, poly, flabby excess weight that I certainly need to exercise back to a tighter state.
But, instead of lamenting my fairly new form, the first thought that went through my head was, "Huh, I kinda look like a Botticelli.
