I Already Pick Myself Apart

So, a few ladies and I were discussing a couple days ago about how we as women dress. One friend stated that she was tired of how women walk around with their flab hanging out and not wearing the proper undergarments to hold things up and right. She was of the opinion that if leaving one’s home, all precautions must be taken: Spanx must be worn, girdles, or even slips ought to be utilized. She expressed her dislike of exposed bra straps and fat spilling over one’s gut. She mentioned how such exposure is okay in one’s household alone.

Having been one who had body issues after having my daughter, I didn’t know what to make of this. I personally don’t care for excess spillage or women who wear three sizes too small, expose their flabby bellies wearing a medium shirt or mid-rift when they know good and well their behinds should be in an extra large. I also don’t care for the extra tight pants that give the illusion of a crotch.

However, I do have dear friends who find it difficult to feel beautiful in what is available for plus sized women, so I kinda understand the struggle. Not all women can afford or even pull off Spanx. Even those who can afford them find them uncomfortable or feel awful that they have to hide who they really are, or how they look, in order not to make others feel comfortable.

So, I’ll be honest…when I take a look at my undressed body, there are days I just stare and analyze every flaw and actually get grossed out. Those days became the better part of my week at one point in time, and I had to realize that I couldn’t go around feeling unpretty and think my daughter would grow up with a healthy understanding of what beauty really was.

What did I do to get where I am now, you may ask? Well, I started talking to a dear friend who informed me that although I enjoyed working out, if I did not watch what I ate, I could exercise forever and see no results. Let me tell you though…I like food. I’m no foodie or anything, as I’m one who could go a whole day on a spinach-banana-almond milk-oats diet, but when there’s nothing stopping me…a good ol’ piece of Popeye’s chicken, some mashed potatoes, red beans and rice, and a large Chick-fil-A lemonade does my body good.

We’ve just got to make an effort. We can’t get mad that people get disgusted by our spillovers when we purposely choose to expose them. Now, that’s on you/me/us. If you have the right sized shirt and when laughing with your friends, your stretch marked tummy peeks out from under it briefly, don’t feel embarrassed or get unnecessarily self-conscious. We’re women…even on our best days, most of us still struggle with stretch marks from yo-yoing weight, extra skin from childbirth, or sagging behinds from weight gain, muscle loss, or whatever. As long as we’re doing what we can to get ourselves to a healthier us, we need to embrace the bodies we have.

My take on it: if you need it and it makes you feel good about yourself, pad them. If you don’t mind the false illusion it gives, I guess you should go for it. I can’t and won’t, because it’s an additional cost and more time and work for me. Yep, call me lazy…I’ll own it. I’ve come to a place where I’m still evolving as a human being, a woman. I still have my good and bad days, and I can’t fault anyone for them but myself. I have days that I just don’t get around to working out like I’m supposed to or that I eat like I don’t have sense at a Nigerian party spread out with my favorite foods. Will I kick myself and starve myself the next day? Nope, I just ensure I don’t make it a habit.

We have but one life. Our bodies are our temples. We need to treat them as sanctuaries, as they have been given to us, and we can’t afford not to care for them properly. However, will I go overboard in order to keep other people from judging me? In the words of Bishop Bullwinkle, “Hell to thenaw naw naw”. I’ve done that in the past, and the more I tried to please others or put up a front that I had what I didn’t, the longer the self-loathing lingered.

Ladies, let’s be our greatest cheerleaders. Men out there are judging us. The media is telling us what we should look like and how ideal it is for us to look a certain way. Get those images out of your mind. I’m not stepping out for you. When I decide to leave my house, putting one foot in front of the other, you don’t know how I woke up feeling about myself that morning, so please put your bugged eyes back in their sockets, move aside and let me through. I already pick myself apart; I don’t need your help in that department.