Loving Your Body Through the Ick

This topic, like many of the others I’ve shared, is a theme that I am currently sitting in and sifting through with caution, grief and love. What’s new?

This morning I looked at myself in the mirror with a frown on my face and let out a huge, defeated humph type of sound.  With my arms down by my sides, shoulders drooping forward, back slouched as I stood, I poked and prodded at my stomach, breasts and arms, while criticizing how broad my shoulders seemed in comparison to how thin my hips were becoming.

Each time that I look at myself in the mirror, not only am I staring at a misshapen body that I don’t completely recognize but then I become saddened and anxious, as I worry about what this could mean for my future and the possibilities of having biological children.  My hormones are depleting and I haven’t had kids as yet.

I spent so many years working hard for security that I didn’t recognize the internal stress - and then burnout - that I was putting my physical body through, which is now made apparent from a shocked nervous system, thinning hair, thinning hips, fuller breasts, mood swings, adult acne, short painful periods, constant inflammation, and chronic bladder flare ups.  

My hormones are tripping’, my adrenal glands are worn down, and overall my internal systems need so much support that sometimes I forget to eat simply because digesting wears me out.  Herbs, teas and tinctures have been my lifesaver, as well as plenty of vacations - that vitamin D and salt water hits just right and brings me back to feeling like myself again.

Loving the skin I’m in has never truly come easy.  From the age of 12 I began to experience my first signs of low self esteem.

At twelve years old, my best friend ‘acne’ started to show up.  

Having acne and having Jamaican parents don’t mix well.  

Every conversation at the dinner table was about something new mi should try and ‘bwoy mi nuh like look pan ‘ar skin.’  My parent’s were overly concerned with the thought that I would be treated poorly at school because of the acne that they tried to do everything to make it go away for me.  Although no fault of their own, they indirectly aided in diminishing my self esteem with their debates and constant attention given to what could have been treated as a normal teenage thing.  I was a guinea pig being brought to all kinds of doctors and dermatologists, trying new creams, treatments and then eventually tough pills to help it go away.  Through this process a seed was planted in my mind that somehow I wouldn’t be attractive if I had a blemish.

And guess what? I still have acne lol! Since 12 years old until now, I still be breaking out.  I have had years where the acne seemed to go away and then years in between when it would return.  I had to undo all that I was told as a teenager about acne through doctors and dermatologists and investigate my own system, diet and hormones to discover what has been causing it and how to support it’s healing and love myself through it.

At around the same age of 12, I was exposed to porn by a childhood friend of mine.  I remember he put on a blue movie that he found through the thousands of satellite channels my dad had.  I don’t remember the storyline but I do remember this:  

Seeing a blond chick with the biggest titties I ever saw and the tiniest body and thinking to myself “Wow I never want to look like that.”  

Fast forward 6 months later, approaching my 13th birthday I’m looking at myself in the mirror, holding my then C cup breasts up in my hands like two full water balloons and saying to myself "what the fuck are these?!”  I was vex.

I think most teenage girls would have been elated.  But me? Nope, I was hurt, upset, livid actually.  I looked up at my bathroom ceiling and distinctly remember saying “God didn’t I tell you that this was exactly what I don’t want?” Looking back now, I know that this was evidence of a ‘our thoughts become things’ type moment.  The exact thing I didn’t want to have happen came to fruition. 

In my mind the ideal body shape was like Halle Berry or Jennifer Lopez, either having an equally proportionate upper and lower body, or give me the booty and hips, there was no way I wanted to walk around top heavy.  But alas what I felt I got was the idolized porn star shape that I immediately equated to lacking class and grace.  

This right here is why representation in all things matters.  

Growing up in the 90s where most of the women of colour celebrities that I loved were music artists like Selena, Aaliyah, or TLC, all I saw were celebrities that were thin, with itty bitty titties, and a tom boyish style.  My first sighting of breasts that looked like mine were on a blond porn star.  Cue another negative self esteem seed planted.

the prototype.

Eventually I learned to accept the acne, and grew to appreciate my body and was motivated to work out and balance out my shape a bit more by concentrating on lower body workouts.  Through what we would deem ‘our physical prime’ as women - our twenties and early thirties - I had grown to love my body.  And in loving it, I was also taking advantage of all that it could do.  

I overdid it with alcohol and junk food.  I pushed my energy to the max with long work days and nights balancing a 9-5 job while building out my passion work in the evenings.  I experienced a lot of relationship trauma that at the time I hadn’t recognized the toll it would take on my body leaving it unattended.  I had been in two really bad car accidents, in 2007 and then again in 2018, that I hadn’t done a whole lot to treat.  And I’ve taken various bouts of birth control and acne medications that played double dutch with my hormones that it’s a wonder I’m still ticking in the way that I do.

But hey, I was loving myself…?

I remember when I was in the car accident in 2018 an Uber driver, in all his wisdom, said to me "anything you haven’t dealt with will find a way to come back to you so that you are forced to deal with it again.”  

At that time there was a lot of trauma that I hadn’t resolved around trust and abuse, and the car accident along with the injuries sustained, were reviving plenty of the distrust, rage, anger and other emotions that had been stuffed down inside of me and were left to collect dust.  

January 2022 - the first time in a while that I began to feel attractive in my body. I had just completed a ridiculous 30 day workout regimen that I hated but was happy with the results.

Likewise, as I approach my 37th birthday in a couple of weeks, I recognize that many of the same self esteem issues I had as a pre-teen have been creeping up and calling me to address them, while I try to push them down, ignore or remedy them with more skin care creams, fad diets, and wonky exercise regimens, rather than some good ol’ self love, tlc and affirmations.

This topic, like many of the others I’ve shared, is a theme that I am currently sitting in and sifting through with caution, grief and love. What’s new?

I think the stress that comes with struggling to love our bodies as we get older is not only focused on the outward appearance but also includes the added pressure of wanting to know what’s going on with our internal systems and overall functionality. We not only want the clear skin and ideal body shape, but as we age we start to appreciate more what our bodies are capable of, whether they are still functioning in the way that we would like and what signals our body may be giving us through our skin, weight or pain.  

It’s one thing to look in the mirror and appreciate what you see, and even if you don’t appreciate it visually, you can still work through what beauty and it’s ideals mean to you, whereas when we have the awareness that our bodies are screaming at us that something is wrong, our weight fluctuates or doesn’t move no matter how hard we try, we battle chronic inflammation, skin issues, joint issues, or even worse illness and disease, and any associated pain that comes along with it - it now begins to feel like you are at a fight with yourself. 

Loving our body through the ick, through it’s glory days and it’s lowly days, like any healing process, is a marathon, not a sprint.  There is plenty of tug of war moments, plenty of frustration, and plenty of grace and gratitude. 

A few years ago I wrote a piece about loving our bodies, it went something like this:

I love me.

But sometimes I feel unsure of myself -  in this skin - in this body.

The acne that comes and goes, the pain and swelling of fibroids, the highs and lows of this mood, wondering if I can have babies, along with all the mess that comes with ovulating in my thirties - sends me on a continuous up and down cycle each month, causing me to question my sanity…

Again leaving me feeling unsure in my skin - in this body.

But rather than live in the uncertainty, rather than allow the highs and lows and the pain to suffocate me, I choose to approach each day with grace and gratitude.

Gratitude for the pudge around my belly that sometimes lays flat and sometimes inflames to the size of a basketball reminding me that I carry my stress in my womb and it's time to breathe.

The newness of my inner thighs kissing one another as I walk. 

The suppleness of my breasts and the way they sit high reminding me that I still got it.

The curve of my lips and the new laugh lines that now surround them.

The mischievous glint in my eyes when I lean in for a kiss.

The love handles that he holds onto as I close my eyes, while he…well..ya know

The gratitude I have for these same eyes that have given me the gift of sight.

The one bow leg I have that is just like my Pops and hands that are reminiscent of my Ma, that have been blessed to give and hold plenty of hearts and stories to share.

I’ve had to teach myself that inflammation, hormonal changes, or having a random shitty, moody day does not equate to me not loving myself overall.  As women we can easily allow dips in our mood, our monthly flow or any other body adversities to fuel our insecurities.  We gotta remember that Emotions are always IN MOTION. Give yourself grace.  When you’re feeling low or unsure of what your body is doing, take some quiet time, pull out all the things that comfort you and love on yourself a little bit harder.

I love myself. 

But sometimes this skin, this body, leaves me feeling unsure of myself.

What about you?

I love you.

Til next time,

Tash xo

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