I think it's important to hear from somebody... anybody, you come across in your life, that you are beautiful. Ideally, it's good to hear this from your parent, the person you are romantically interested in, your best friend, your spouse, your child, even a stranger. It is just good to hear. Something to affirm you, and without any qualifiers by the way. For example, none of this "You're (insert something negative), but your face is pretty", or "You would be beautiful if only you would (insert something negative)". I think it's important to hear that you are beautiful, at least once in your life. So that someday, when you're all grown up and looking at yourself in the mirror, you can hear yourself saying it to your own reflection without seeing the look of doubt and disbelief staring back at you.
I will be the first to admit that I am not a slender girl, by any stretch of the imagination. I wasn't one when I was in 3rd grade and we took a trip to Griffith park where the guy working the pony ride grunted as he tried to get the kiddie-safe belt around me and said I had a gut. I wasn't one when I was in middle school when the boy I had a crush on told me that he could consider dating me, but my chubbiness was holding him back. I wasn't one in high school when nobody asked me to the prom. and I wasn't one when I got married and could only choose wedding dresses from a certain designated section. And throughout all those years, I never was told I was beautiful.
My mom,erroneously believing that she was being helpful, trying to find words that would motivate me to somehow magically lose all my extra weight, would tell me that I was gross because of my weight and nobody would want to marry me. She said I couldn't have pretty clothes because of my weight. She said I must be lazy. She said I took after my dad. My dad. The only person who had made me feel like I was beautiful, lovable. The only person who built up my heart, filling it with hugs which was like a soothing balm after the verbal lashings I got from my mom. The person, who in one fell swoop, walked out of my life at the age of 14, and devastated that same heart. The person who my mom couldn't even mention without a gleam of rage entering into her eyes, for the same devastation he caused to her heart. My dad. The rage. She said I took after my dad.
When I was 15, my middle school drama teacher wrote in my yearbook, "Love yourself". I had no idea what that meant. I still kind of don't. Which I think is part of the problem. But now, after many years, at the age of 30, I've decided to try and find out. SO... in learning to love myself, I think I have to learn how to be naked. And yes, I do mean physically naked. BUT I also mean it in the figurative way too.
Nakedness. I'm hoping that word will mean to me: Not feeling shame. Being vulnerable and exposed. Finding strength and beauty in being vulnerable and exposed. Being honest and transparent. Being humble. Being thankful.
If I'm going to love myself, I have to find myself. I can't find myself buried under years of pain, hurt, blame, self-pity, and and most of all, defensiveness.
Do you remember back in the 90's when people thought it was cool to act "hard"? Like when we were teens and when we posed for pictures, nobody smiled and we tried to do a group squat or tilt the head up because that meant you were "hard" and cool? That may be a necessary step in finding yourself while you're a teenager, but it is definitely not something you should still do when you are 30. I don't mean the physical posing and stuff (hey, how you take your pictures is up to you) I just mean having the mentality that "hard" = cool. The mentality that not letting anyone in, and not letting yourself come out, means that you have finally arrived. At least for me, being "cool" isn't at the top of my list of images I'd like to portray of myself, to myself or to others... well not anymore. It'd be a lie if I said I didn't care about it at all. I just think that now... there is something more in me to find than how "hard" I can be. More than what kind of exterior I can polish up for others to see. Sure, being "hard" definitely helps hold you together when you think you may otherwise come apart, but it can also act as a band-aid over a wound that will fester without air and light to properly heal. I'm ready to be real. I'm ready to heal. I'm ready for nakedness.
Stay tuned for Part 3 of Naked and Loving Me as I go through my journey of learning to love me through my nakedness!
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