This is Who I Am
A book by Rosanne Olson that features photographs of women of all shapes, sizes and colors in the nude with a paragraph or two of an interview about their bodies. It's a wonderful book that unfortunately highlights how self-conscience so many, many women are about what they look like. It also shows how awesome women's bodies are, and some great wisdom from everyday women about what they love about themselves.
I started asking myself the questions these women answered.
I was thirteen when I stared at myself in the mirror and said, "Bec, you better work on your personality because you certainly aren't going to get a boy with your looks." When I repeat this story to others, they are usually sad for me at that age that I felt bad about myself, and then adamant in telling me that I'm beautiful, and I know that right? Don't feel bad for me at that age, I didn't and still don't. I was disappointed that I didn't meet up to the standards I saw in magazines and movies, but I was not embarrassed or depressed about it at all. Instead, I realized that the people who loved me were sincere when they said I was beautiful (my family) and I figured that was because they loved me and saw my beauty on the inside. So, in my logical thirteen year old mind, I figured that if I wanted a boyfriend, I would have to make him see my beauty on the inside, and then he would find me beautiful on the outside as well. I had accepted my body at that age and was working around it.
At 17 I was pleasantly surprised at my body. This was because everyone around me remarked at its beauty, and I couldn't believe that I had become an object of desire. I realized I was damn hot.
At 19 I was pregnant and was astounded at how beautiful I had become. The roundness was the epitome of womanliness. I had never been very curvy and now I was so, so curvy. I loved my body and even considered modeling for an art class (didn't quite have the courage for it, however.)
After children I did not love my body. I was convinced that other women my age did not look like me- they were still beautiful while I was now ugly. I did not look at myself in the mirror. My skin was horrible with acne, my breasts were smaller and sagged, my stomach had red marks and was wrinkled and pudgy, my hair would not grow long anymore, even my teeth looked yellow and gross. In clothing, I hid it well. I was thin- somehow in this society that was all that mattered, so I knew people thought I was attractive. But naked? Absolutely not. If I fantasized about someone, I could never have the fantasy go past kissing because even in my dreams I would never take off my clothes- I would ruin the moment because I thought I was ugly. I became obsessed with comparing my breasts to other women I saw and always found myself lacking.
It has only been the past couple of years that I have begun to love my body again. This is because of a silly reason. I saw a movie with a naked woman in it. She was pretty, but not Playboy shape and...she looked like me. I was startled. Her breasts looked just like mine and she was the romantic interest in the movie. Confused, I started looking at medical images of naked women- just normal women. And realized that I wasn't ugly- just normal. This is what a woman's body looks like- not the magazines. How could I have been fooled? I'm a smart chic and I fell for the whole cultural body image problem. It was angering.
I took a dancing class and found myself loving how gracefully i could move. I am blessed with this body. I started looking at myself in the mirror and smiling. I am beautiful because I am me. Perhaps I just fell in love with myself and now I see the beauty within shining through. I don't know, but it doesn't matter. My breasts, tummy, hair, skin, even my teeth are a part of my beautiful self. I love my body.
I started asking myself the questions these women answered.
I was thirteen when I stared at myself in the mirror and said, "Bec, you better work on your personality because you certainly aren't going to get a boy with your looks." When I repeat this story to others, they are usually sad for me at that age that I felt bad about myself, and then adamant in telling me that I'm beautiful, and I know that right? Don't feel bad for me at that age, I didn't and still don't. I was disappointed that I didn't meet up to the standards I saw in magazines and movies, but I was not embarrassed or depressed about it at all. Instead, I realized that the people who loved me were sincere when they said I was beautiful (my family) and I figured that was because they loved me and saw my beauty on the inside. So, in my logical thirteen year old mind, I figured that if I wanted a boyfriend, I would have to make him see my beauty on the inside, and then he would find me beautiful on the outside as well. I had accepted my body at that age and was working around it.
At 17 I was pleasantly surprised at my body. This was because everyone around me remarked at its beauty, and I couldn't believe that I had become an object of desire. I realized I was damn hot.
At 19 I was pregnant and was astounded at how beautiful I had become. The roundness was the epitome of womanliness. I had never been very curvy and now I was so, so curvy. I loved my body and even considered modeling for an art class (didn't quite have the courage for it, however.)
After children I did not love my body. I was convinced that other women my age did not look like me- they were still beautiful while I was now ugly. I did not look at myself in the mirror. My skin was horrible with acne, my breasts were smaller and sagged, my stomach had red marks and was wrinkled and pudgy, my hair would not grow long anymore, even my teeth looked yellow and gross. In clothing, I hid it well. I was thin- somehow in this society that was all that mattered, so I knew people thought I was attractive. But naked? Absolutely not. If I fantasized about someone, I could never have the fantasy go past kissing because even in my dreams I would never take off my clothes- I would ruin the moment because I thought I was ugly. I became obsessed with comparing my breasts to other women I saw and always found myself lacking.
It has only been the past couple of years that I have begun to love my body again. This is because of a silly reason. I saw a movie with a naked woman in it. She was pretty, but not Playboy shape and...she looked like me. I was startled. Her breasts looked just like mine and she was the romantic interest in the movie. Confused, I started looking at medical images of naked women- just normal women. And realized that I wasn't ugly- just normal. This is what a woman's body looks like- not the magazines. How could I have been fooled? I'm a smart chic and I fell for the whole cultural body image problem. It was angering.
I took a dancing class and found myself loving how gracefully i could move. I am blessed with this body. I started looking at myself in the mirror and smiling. I am beautiful because I am me. Perhaps I just fell in love with myself and now I see the beauty within shining through. I don't know, but it doesn't matter. My breasts, tummy, hair, skin, even my teeth are a part of my beautiful self. I love my body.