artist, beauty, body, expectations, self, self image

Persnickety Physical Perfection

For those who want a serious or tame read, skip this post.

Sassafras here.

Lingering, wallowing, and then drowning in

tears,

self-loathing,

tears,

tears,

despair,

and more tears,

all over not looking just “right” or “perfect.”

Wait a second, that’s not quite right.

I’m too fat.

I have a belly.

My chest….

Well, I’ve heard that women typically gain weight first in two places, their stomach and their chest.

I’ve done that, and I’m doing that.

So, what?

Just because I don’t wear the smallest sizes there are. And, I have fat on my body. And I don’t look toothpick thin.

THAT makes me, what, unacceptable? An embarrassment?

Some nameless face and body nemesis decides who makes the cut? And that standard is unreachable and fluid. Even photographs of supermodels get airbrushed and Photo-shopped.

I’m sick of playing the stupid game, where I’m supposed to be starving thin and I’m judged solely by that.

It’s not so easy to throw up my hands, declare “Whatever,” and walk away.

But, I decided to change things up, yesterday.

I picked up some new dresses, skirts, and a few tops. Ones that fit me, my current size, and, for the most part, my personality. I am an artist, and I love bright colors as well as beautiful, eye-catching patterns. And, some of what I picked out expresses just that. I picked a “safe,” conservative dress, that I can dress up or hide in on my less confident days. It’s not a tent, that dress. But, in general, I declare victory because I’m picking what brings out the best in me, instead of hiding.

And, the other part of my adjustment involves readjusting my perspective.

Though I’m charting new territory, this body has brought four lives into this world,

and struggles with figuring out how to parent alone aren’t as daunting any more.

I’m finding a new equilibrium.

And…,

and, life is good.

I’m not struggling with ailments or diseases that are ravaging or destroying my body or mind.

So, this afternoon, with fists hammering the table, I declare, “It is well.”

Lily Chang © 2018

I am here.

And, here I am.

My non-Photoshopped, non-airbrushed, non-filtered self.

 

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