Reflecting on my childhood, I can see the awkwardness of a gangly girl, all knees and elbows, donning baggy acid wash jeans and a perm that left much to be desired. Standing head and shoulders above my peers due to early puberty, I remember feeling out of place and desperately wanting to hide my changing body under oversized shirts and sweaters. It was in those moments that the seeds of body shame were planted, and I began to believe my body was too large, too curvy, and taking up too much space.
However, I now breathe a sigh of relief as I realize that those feelings are no longer part of my reality. The transformation in my relationship with my body has been gradual, particularly over the last five years as I approach my 40s. Perhaps it’s simply the wisdom that comes with age, or maybe it’s my newfound “I don’t care” attitude. Whatever the reason, I finally feel at ease in my own skin and no longer feel the need to conceal myself.
Like many women, I experienced the ups and downs of weight fluctuations throughout my teens and 20s. Genetics offered me a curvy physique—complete with ample breasts and wide hips. Yet, I fell victim to the societal pressures that suggest I should mold my natural shape into something more akin to the unattainable beauty ideals portrayed in media. Though I was often tempted to pursue drastic measures, I’m grateful I never developed a serious eating disorder. Still, for many years, my relationship with food and my body was far from healthy.
There were times I barely ate, skipping breakfast and lunch and exercising excessively, only to swing to the opposite extreme and binge. Neither approach worked. Even at my slimmest, my curves remained, and as soon as I overindulged, the weight would return swiftly. I felt trapped in a cycle of misery and anxiety, using food as a means of coping.
At 28, I became pregnant for the first time and gained 40 pounds—only to discover that after giving birth, I still had 25 pounds to shed. It was the heaviest I had ever been, and the weight didn’t just melt away, particularly since breastfeeding left me needing energy rather than depriving myself. Motherhood was a pivotal moment for me; I learned to appreciate the curves I once abhorred. My body was now a vessel of nourishment for my child, and that realization shifted my focus away from my own insecurities.
It wasn’t until I reached 34, after my second child, that I truly began to embrace my body. I started to eat balanced meals, allowing myself to enjoy food without the guilt of overindulgence or deprivation. I had tossed my scale years before to alleviate the anxiety it caused, but now I keep it around without obsession. Weighing myself infrequently, I’ve learned that a few extra pounds aren’t worth stressing over.
I’ve come to understand the body I am meant to have. While I will never be thin, I know what a healthy weight looks like for me, and I’ve stopped comparing myself to others. My body is not perfect, and there are days when I catch myself lamenting over my squishy stomach or the loose skin on my arms. But I’ve learned to acknowledge those thoughts and move on without dwelling on perceived flaws.
Reaching this level of body acceptance hasn’t been easy, and I acknowledge that not everyone arrives at this place. I can’t pinpoint exactly how I got here; perhaps it’s simply a matter of time and life unfolding as it should. Whatever the journey, I’m profoundly grateful. Letting go of my relentless self-criticism has been a liberating experience, granting me the mental space to focus on what truly matters in life.
Ultimately, loving my body equates to loving and respecting myself. My body is no longer merely occupying space; it owns it and radiates confidence. I am beautiful, and so is my body.
Summary
In my nearly 40 years, I’ve evolved from a girl ashamed of her body to a woman who embraces her natural shape. Motherhood played a significant role in this transformation, helping me appreciate my curves and fostering a healthier relationship with food. Today, I focus on self-acceptance and love, celebrating my body as a beautiful vessel.