Making Friends With This Body

My body and I are on speaking terms again. After years of anger and silence, we’re re-learning how to be together. It is a truce of sorts.

We started out the best of friends. When I was little, I liked to make it run in my navy blue Nikes with the white swoosh that made me feel so fast. We rode bikes and caught silver wriggling fish. It felt good in the sunshine and so excited in the rain.

It was me and I was it. Strong and fun and wonderful.

But then, the betrayals. I guess you could say my body broke my heart one too many times. So we stopped being friends. And even though I didn’t start it, I finished it.

We are both to blame.

The first betrayal was when I was a young girl and my babysitter touched my body. He was curious. I was terrified. Not only by the boy, but by the police who interviewed me, the therapist(s) who made me talk about it, and the other boys who came after him, all wanting to touch my body.

I learned a deep lesson that I still carry today. Girl bodies are not safe. Girl bodies are not strong. They make you vulnerable to very, very bad things.

Then I went through puberty, and the hair and the blood and the pain that came with it felt more like a disease than a rights of passage. Parts of my body that made me uncomfortable defined me. My body was no longer fun. It was scary.

The final betrayal started soon after and continues, some 30 years later. My body is not perfect. And it stubbornly refuses to be perfect no matter what.

In high school, I carried my tiny breasts into Victoria’s Secret, hopeful that somewhere among the lacy gorgeousness, I’d find a way to make them bigger. But the sales lady said, “I’m sorry, we don’t make bras in your size.”

My mother tried to help. She introduced me to padded bras, searched for inserts made of silicone and water for a “natural look.” If we’d had the money, she might even have paid for surgery. (I am grateful we didn’t have the money.)

As if that weren’t enough, my body refused to be lithe and thin. So I learned a new trick. I stopped eating. And when that failed, I stuck a pencil down my throat until I gagged, flushing it all down the toilet.

Even though it was painful and scary, it was less painful and scary than being fat in a world that only loves thin. Because the opposite of love is hate, and I didn’t want the world to hate my body.

Then, endometriosis. Surgery after surgery. Harrowing pregnancies. Lost babies. Miracle babies. More surgeries. So many, I actually don’t remember how many. My body wasn’t wonderful. It was a battlefield.

And yet.

And yet, I started to remember that little girl body, the one before the betrayals. The one that could run so fast, feel good in the sun and excited in the rain.

Because I have a daughter and she is nine, around the age when this all started for me.

I see her brown legs running, small versions of my own. As she giggles in the rain, I take a chance and step out into it, too. It is cold and gentle.

Through her, I am making friends with this body again.

It’s been awkward and scary at times, this re-learning. Painful for sure. When she asks if she looks fat, I recoil and sink inside myself. But then we stand together in the mirror, looking at our bodies.

I reassure her, and myself, that our bodies are beautiful.

When she is too nervous to ride her bike or touch the silver wriggling fish that she caught, I encourage her.

I tell her, and myself, not to be scared.

And when she asks questions about how her body will one day make babies, asks where exactly that baby will come forth from her body, I explain to her, “Oh my dear, this is the very best part.”

Because her body will make another body, and it will be strong and fun and wonderful.

And maybe, if she is very lucky like me, it will teach her something she forgot long ago.

 

212 thoughts on “Making Friends With This Body”

  2. Amy Jo says:
    Reply

    You are so brave and beautiful my friend! Thank you for sharing…especially the part about the best part. Stealing that and tucking it away for the next 7-8 years when my baby girl is full of the same questions.

    Liked by 4 people

  3. Megan says:
    Reply

    Overwhelmed with love and tears as I read your courageous words. Proud of you for allowing yourself to see your beautiful and strong body through your body’s eyes. You are amazing.

    Liked by 4 people

  6. LG says:
    Reply

    I can’t believe that this hell is common to all nations, all cultures. I thought I was the cursed one thanks to my country’s disdain for a woman’s body.
    Coincidentally I wrote something along similar lines today !

    Liked by 3 people

  8. TheOriginalPhoenix says:
    Reply

    Awwww this is such a beautiful post, I love it! This was very eye-opening for me; you’re clearly a wonderful mother and person. I wish you the best.

    Liked by 4 people

  9. sidraowens says:
    Reply

    You have given voice to a fight we all fight, somewhere deep inside, but try not to acknowledge. No one’s body is perfect, no matter how the world might want you to think otherwise. Being overweight, my body image has been terrible for along time, but as my daughter gets older, I want to be comfortable with herself in hopes that she will comfortable with herself, as she grows and changes. Giving birth to life, can also allow us to give birth to strength. Strength in a tiny little package of little arms and little legs and little smiles, that allows us to see ourselves the way our children see us and know that finally we are alright. Beautiful Article.

    Liked by 5 people

  10. this_is_omani_writing says:
    Reply

    Lexie,
    It takes a lot of guts to reveal such intimate matters and you mama have shared in such an inspiring way.
    Amazing piece right there!

    Tracy.

    Liked by 3 people

  11. harleylikestotalk says:
    Reply

    Beautiful post! I too, am here with tears in my eyes. No one talks about this in such truth. As someone who’s been in a slightly similar war with my body in some of those aspects has been terrified of what I will tell my daughter when she is old enough to ask. My heart holds onto the hope you have now given me. Thank you.

    Liked by 2 people

  12. bdeckard92 says:
    Reply

    I hope you don’t mind me responding, this is beautiful. It’s amazing how much strength comes through when we are vulnerable. I really admire your bravery and your writing and telling this story smashes the lense of objectivity through which many men view women. This seriously broke my heart and then lifted my spirit. Thank you

    Liked by 3 people

  13. kasmin says:
    Reply

    Reblogged this on Design your life and commented:
    Body image is something I had been struggling with all my life, right up until my early thirties when I learnt to accept myself for the imperfections and the wild frizzy hair. Sharing this post because of its honesty.

    Liked by 4 people

  14. Gagan khaira says:
    Reply

    That really brought tears to my eyes. It’s beautiful and so brave of you to write this. No matter what size or color you are, just remember that you’re beautiful. And if that’s not enough listen to Alessia Cara’s Scars To Your Beautiful. I’m sure you’ll love it. And I would seriously recommend you to read Rupi kaur’s Milk and Honey. It’s a powerful book.

    Liked by 3 people

  26. Pingback: Haciendo amigos con este cuerpo – apserranoblog
  27. GlamourPrin says:
    Reply

    This is such a beautifully written piece. The love hate struggle between your body and you. What you both have been through together and at the end you embraced your body and learnt to accept it regardless of the expectations of society. Also you are a very brave and strong person! I loved this and shall read it again!

    Liked by 4 people

  38. Pingback: Making Friends With This Body | pressagrun
  39. Pingback: Making Friends With This Body – Sincerely, Tyra
  46. karibosworth says:
    Reply

    So good. One of the hardest things for me is seeing my daughters start to model my insecurities. I don’t want that for them so I have to consciously choose to show them how to be positive, accepting, and loving with their bodies. I have to retrain my brain. Not let the lies and horrors of the past reflect on my future; my daughters.

    Liked by 1 person

  47. Jothish Joseph says:
    Reply

    Just wow!….we’ve just gone though your entire life……and what a wonderful way of portraying it! Written boldly yet not losing any purpose. Though this u have also described what parents dream of their children …….really enjoyed reading it!

    Liked by 1 person

  49. Pingback: Making Friends With This Body – The Wallflower In Wonderland

Leave a reply to bhorlarji Cancel reply