This week I saw a picture of myself at our son’s wedding that sent me down a shame spiral. Despite my $200 worth of hair and make-up (which looked fabulous) and the amazing blue dress (with cold shoulders and in the perfect shade of blue for my complexion) I was mortified. All I saw was my bulging belly, protruding butt, and omg was that…
This week I saw a picture of myself at our son’s wedding that sent me down a shame spiral. Despite my $200 worth of hair and make-up (which looked fabulous) and the amazing blue dress (with cold shoulders and in the perfect shade of blue for my complexion) I was mortified. All I saw was my bulging belly, protruding butt, and omg was that the outline of my thigh? Then a funny thing happened.
After the tears and some time, I saw my own softness. I saw myself strong in a new way - not in a “I can beat the crap out of you if you come near me” way, which, honestly I had been striving for most of my life, but in a “I’ve got this” way. I see confidence in my eyes and in my body that I wasn’t feeling when I first looked at the picture, but it’s real, and the shame is just so much old news.
This week I saw a picture of myself at our son’s wedding that sent me down a shame spiral. Despite my $200 worth of hair and make-up (which looked fabulous) and the amazing blue dress (with cold shoulders and in the perfect shade of blue for my complexion) I was mortified. All I saw was my bulging belly, protruding butt, and omg was that the outline of my thigh? Then a funny thing happened.
After the tears and some time, I saw my own softness. I saw myself strong in a new way - not in a “I can beat the crap out of you if you come near me” way, which, honestly I had been striving for most of my life, but in a “I’ve got this” way. I see confidence in my eyes and in my body that I wasn’t feeling when I first looked at the picture, but it’s real, and the shame is just so much old news.
Nina Tames is right. My body is bloody poetry.