Heres a little throwback Thursday story inspired by the article talking about the world losing it over the fact that a male athlete does not have a 6-pack. My insecurities about my body started in the 6th grade. I was walking down the hall after taking my brother to his class one morning and some boy came up to me and tried to flip my bra strap. I was a late bloomer, and didnt really need a bra at that point so the thought that I should have one had never crossed my mind until this boy laughed at me when I told him I wasnt wearing one. I cried until my parents bought me one. Later that same year, I had a boyfriend who dumped me for a girl with bigger boobs. This led to me stuffing my bra throughout junior high and being embarrassed to change in front of others for gym as I still hadnt hit puberty. It was in a history class in the 10th grade when one of my male peers leaned over during class and asked me if I was anorexic. I was just naturally thin and STILL had not grown. That day I went home and started eating a whole bowl of ice cream and a bag of buttered popcorn EVERY DAY after school just to try and gain weight. It didnt work. Even though I hated the way I looked at this point, I still had the guts to ask a senior guy I liked out to a dance. He said no. I hit puberty the summer after 11th grade and started filling out a little the after graduation. When I got to college, my VERY FIRST WEEK that SAME guy I had asked out as sophomore was in my class. He approached me afterwards and said (I kid you not) youve really grown up! Want to go out? I told him I wasnt interested and walked away. Still eating crap food to gain weight, gain I did. All in my butt. Which got me attention I never had before. Both good and bad. I had boyfriend who would defend me when his friends would laugh about my fat ass. I also had awful awful things yelled to me by random men. When I came home from college, I was told that I got fat. So I started running. Every day. And dieting for the first time in my life. I would do up to 4 hours of cardio a day sometimes just because I felt fat. That continued through meeting my husband and getting married. Around this time I also started belly dancing. I was told by a member of the troupe I was in that I looked weird when I danced because my arms were so long and thin. There were also a few who gave me a rude nickname based on my thinness. Then I got pregnant and I had to nourish my growing baby. So I started eating more, and for the first time in my life had more than a small a-cup bra size. I felt good about myself for a while. Until my stomach started getting big and I got stretch marks. I did everything I could to stop from getting them, but I still got them. I stopped dancing for a year because I figured nobody wanted to see that. It ate my soul. When Livvy was about 3 months old, started dancing again. And I had finally come to terms with my stretch marks. I didnt love them, but I was no longer ashamed. (Kids are great at helping you realize what is important and what isnt.) I started going to the gym more, trying to get strong instead of skinny and found pole and aerial fitness. Being at the studio taught me that bodies can be strong regardless of their shape. It was empowering and for the first time in my life, I started to appreciate my athletic build, and strong body. That led to me dancing through my entire 2nd pregnancy. I got a lot of comments on how I was brave and noble etc . It was nice getting complimented, but dancing pregnant should be the same as dancing when youre not. Why is it that I was considered brave? Was it baring my fat belly? Or not giving 2 shits about having someone see my stretch marks? Every day that went by after giving birth for the 2nd time I thought about these things. Then I started pole again. I got stronger every day. And that strength has only increased since I have started seriously lifting weights. I enjoy being around my peers at the studio, because there I feel I have found my niche. Not one person looks the same and all are strong and beautiful. I still have days when I dont feel particularly beautiful, but I can say that now LOVE my body. For all its imperfections, its abilities, and its life. Society can go f*** itself, because Ill never buy into plastic surgery just to give me perfect boobs, or smooth my wrinkles with injections. In my opinion, Im perfect already. And that goes for ANY person, in ANY field. Stop letting social norms run your lives. Its time to start really living.
Posted on: Fri, 11 Jul 2014 04:09:53 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015