SELF LOVE + TAKING UP SPACE: I Like Big Butts

Time to be me. Photo by Ursula Gamez on Unsplash

I'm 44 years old and I've finally let go of trying to "get" somewhere, to achieve something, or be someone else.

Let me tell you, it feels WONDERFUL not to be trying to be someone other than who I am, or to be trying to live a life other than the one I'm living.

To not be trying to change something.

You see, I’ve spent my life trying to actively change myself and my habits.

Meaning that my mind has always been on something; on monitoring something that I’m trying to change. It’s mostly been my diet and my weight, but also productivity and various other habits.

Let me tell you, that’s mentally exhausting.

There's constant vigilance required; Is the thing changing? Now? How about now?

Have I changed enough to now be acceptable?

To be loved?

To be happy?

Growing up with my fractured family, they made me feel as though there was always something about myself I had to change; either my appearance or who I was.

Appearance-wise it was my weight (too fat, too round) and my hair (too curly).

My body was too big; I took up too much space and who was I to think I had the right to take up space?

Personality-wise... well that was a long list. I needed to be more easy-going, more amenable... To be less outspoken, less opinionated, softer, sweeter, quieter.

My personality was too big; I took up too much space and who was I to think I had the right to take up space?

I've spent my life trying to shrink myself; shrink my body, shrink my being.

To stay small, to stay quiet.

According to my family, the problem was that I was me.

If only I could be less me, that would solve the problem.

I've spent a lifetime trying to solve my being-ness - to change my essence - as if such a thing was possible.

In spite all the ways I tried to change, it was never enough though.

My family made me feel there were so many things about me that were unacceptable that even if I changed certain aspects of myself, there would always be something else.

This made me feel like I was so fatally flawed that I could never even dare hope to be acceptable - let alone to be loved - and so what was the point of it all?

I tried to commit suicide on three separate occasions.

Why though? Photo by Andrea Lightfoot on Unsplash

The ways in which they felt I had to change were the conditions for acceptance and love of course.

Unless I changed, I wasn’t worthy of love.

If I was an outspoken, chubby, curly-haired person, no one would love me.

And what was the point of staying alive if I could never hope to be loved?

Before you get too angry with my family - you’re certainly welcome to, I personally have a PhD in anger towards my family - let’s be honest, this is what media and advertising is based on.

If you change in this way – if you become more of this or less of that – you will in some way be more acceptable, and therefore more loveable.

Media and advertising makes us feel as though we're supposed to get the entire world to know us and love us; that's the epitome of success.

However, I've come to realize that I don’t need the whole world to love me; it turns out the love of a few good people is enough.

Getting married last year has shown me that.

My husband loves me; in fact, he loves the very things about me that my family made me feel were unacceptable.

Appearance-wise, he loves my butt. The same butt I’ve hated for a lifetime because my father told me it was too big and that because of this, I had to wear long shirts to cover it up. (It’s only a few year ago, at age 40, that I started finally being able to tuck in my tops.)

He also likes my curly hair. His high-school crush was Mariah Carey in the 80’s, with her head full of big curls. When he told me that, my world spun on it's axis... "Oh hey wait a minute - not everyone thinks curly hair is ugly; that was just my dad..."

Personality-wise, he really likes who I am. He likes that I’m a homebody (he’s a homebody too) and that I don’t like going out very much. (Too much noise, too many people for him too.)

My husband and I, staying home together. Photo by Roi Dimor on Unsplash

I'm quite certain he also appreciates my bold outspokenness; he is more soft-spoken, and together we balance each other out nicely.

I don’t need to be desirable to every man on the planet; I’m desirable to one really good man, and that’s more than enough.

Getting married has also shown me that my friends love me; all four of my best friends were in attendance on my wedding day.

One flew up to Canada from Texas, another delayed her annual winter Caribbean sailing trip. All were there for me.

I have four best friends – FOUR! That’s a LOT.

And I mean the kind of friends who - if I’m ugly crying and my life is falling apart at 3:00 AM - I can call them and they will pick-up the phone and be there for me.

Not fickle fair-weather Facebook friends.

REAL FRIENDS.

I know for a fact none of them care about my appearance or about what I’ve achieved; our friendships are not contingent on what any of us look like or on what we’ve accomplished in life.

My husband loves me; my friends love me.

More important than that, I’m really beginning to love myself.

I started genuinely liking myself before I met my husband, but I’m starting to love myself now. 

Loving myself is not a “magical fairy-dust” thing, it’s more like a real awareness of the entirety of my being — my flaws and my strengths — accompanied by a willingness to accept the whole package. 

Awareness + Acceptance = SELF-LOVE

Now, I let my hair be big and wild, I let my voice be heard, and I’ve put the scale away.

Who am I to think that I don't have the right to take up space?

Taking up space. Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash

I’m now living in the space of entertaining a novel idea – what if I don’t need to change?

What if me and my life are just fine the way we are?

It’s a nice feeling to wake-up without the underlying stress of trying to accomplish something or focus intensely on all the ways I think I need to change.

For most of my life, there was always that pressure of needing to get somewhere else – a better job, a smaller body, straighter hair.

My life was rigidly ruled by all the things I felt I had to do in order to accomplish those things.

But I’m tired now, and I no longer have the energy to fight my body, my hair, or my true nature.

It feels good to let go.

I wake up now and for the first time since I was a kid, I can just think about what I would like to do.

Not what I think I’m supposed to do in order to gain approval (from myself or others) but just because it’s something I’m interested in or curious about. 

I want to spend time living in that space for a while.

Of just living without trying to get anywhere or accomplish something.

When you’re not focused on an end-goal, your actions become more authentic. You're driven by a desire to feel good or experience joy, or maintain your life in someway that you’ve consciously chosen, instead of for the sake of arriving at a particular destination.

Personal Example - Exercising for the joy of moving my body instead of focusing on the ways in which the activity might shape my body into a more socially acceptable thing.

I’ve missed so much of my life because I’ve been focused on trying to change myself in a way that would guarantee acceptance and love and success.

That intense focus has only resulted in me emotionally twisting myself into a frantic being — like a neurotic pretzel with legs.

I deserve to be loved now. Just as I am.

I deserve to take up space.

I don’t need to change anything.

I don’t need to be different, I don’t need my life to be different, I just need to be myself.

I'm in a phase of letting go.

First, I let go of my family. (That was a big one.)

And now I need to let go of the conditioning they saddled me with.

(You know dad, a lot of people pay a lot of money to get big curls and big butts. There’s even a song about big-butt appreciation…)

It's the letting go season of my life.

I didn't know this is what it would be, but here we are and it is what it is.

Awareness + Acceptance = SELF-LOVE

I'm 44-years old.

I've got a few wrinkles.

I'm beginning to get grey hair. (Curly grey hair.)

It's about damn time I just let go and enjoyed my life.

Well it took you long enough, but at least you made it. Photo by Егор Камелев on Unsplash

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You might be asking yourself "How does this topic relate to recovery from binge-eating?" What I found is that - for me - finding new ways of thinking about life and its challenges helped me to stop stress-eating, and has been a very big part of my ability to stop binge-eating.

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