The Moment I Finally Learned to Love My Body

I want to write about this because I know so many people struggle with it, particularly girls and women.

I have been lucky. I've never hated my body to the point of developing an eating disorder, or felt the need to damage it or change it dramatically. That being said, there are things about my body that I've hated. I have PCOS, which means I have hair growing in unsightly places. I don't have great skin - it's flaky and I break out and have weird red spots all over with huge pores. I gain weight easily and am constantly tired.

You get the picture. The criticism could go on for days.

I have had a long journey with my body, as all people do. A few years ago the idea of "positive body image" became more mainstream and I opened up to it. I became more accepting of my body - I learned to see it in new ways, learned to listen to it's needs, I even was able to recognize some of the unique things about it and be kinder to it. But love? Nah. Couldn't say I loved it. I still disliked it stronger than I appreciated it.

A couple of weeks ago in a yoga class, we had finished up our work and were resting in savasana. Our instructor read us a poem by Rumi. I wish I could find it, but the general idea was about looking back at your life after it's over.

I imagined myself as if I had died, looking at my body laying on the ground and knowing I couldn't have it again. At that moment, I felt a huge wave of grief and sorrow. I realized I would miss my body SO MUCH and would mourn the loss of it. I'm already terribly sentimental by nature, but the thought of losing something that had done so much good for me, had spent my whole life with me, that had carried me through joy and hardships, allowed me to experience the world...it was too much. My body works HARD and gives me so much opportunity. It is healthy and allows me to do so many things that other bodies can't do.

My body is mine. It does the very best it can for me. And I love it.

I love my body.

To love something doesn't mean you like it all the time.  To love something doesn't mean you think it's perfect and you are never mad at it. How do you love a dear family member or friend? You get annoyed by them, you get mad at them. You don't want to be around them sometimes. You know all their flaws and just can't stand them sometimes. But you are devoted to them, you give them the benefit of the doubt, and can't imagine life without them. Do you have to think your body is wonderful and perfect every second in order to love it? Of course not.

I get mad at my body, and I dislike it sometimes. My body image is a journey and I'm still learning. But now I recognize a deep appreciation and respect for it that I didn't see before.

And I finally, genuinely can say that I love my body.