As you read in my last blog, I am going through a transformation this year. I am coming to grips with things that need to be...well...gripped. This year has been one of nothing but change, and it has taken its toll on my body. This time last week, I spent half an hour poking and prodding at myself while looking at my reflection and cursing. "I hate this. That is too big. This is too small. Why don't I have a torso?" and so on and so forth. And that's when I realized, I was a bully. I was a body shaming, fat phobic bully. I was no better than those trolls on the internet who hide behind computer screens and make fun of people. As a handful of you know, I have my fair share of issues with my body. One being an ever so slight case of BDD. Meaning, I look in the mirror and don't see what other people see. This, oddly enough, is why I got into modeling. I trust a photo, but not a mirror. (This is why most of my friends who see me get ready know that I always take a photo. The camera doesn't lie.) The ritual of beating myself up has become as commonplace as brushing my hair, or putting on makeup...And that's when I realized I owed someone an apology. That person was me.
Dear body.
Hello. It's me. Before you start thinking this is just going to be me singing a Todd Rundgren song at you, it's not. I believe we need to have a word. And by a word, I mean two words. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a complete and utter asshole towards you. I'm sorry for hour after hour spent in front of the mirror poking and prodding at every inch of you. I'm sorry for not trusting that you were enough. I'm sorry for the hateful words I spat out at you. I'm sorry for calling you fat. I'm sorry for wanting to change you. I'm sorry for every meal I followed up with a scoop of ice cream because it made it easier on me to throw up entire contents of my already terrible meals. I'm sorry I harmed you...I really am grateful for how well you healed. I'm sorry for sleeping in my makeup. I'm sorry for the days of starvation. I'm sorry for the nights of binge eating. I'm sorry for the years of Diet Coke abuse. I'm sorry for not treating you like the sacred vessel you are. I'm sorry for letting people who didn't worship and adore you touch you. I'm sorry for letting society's idea of beauty creep in my mind and make me think less of you because you weren't photoshopped and perfect. I'm sorry I didn't value the strong, long legs you have, which has made my spiritually uplifting practice of yoga much easier. I'm sorry I took for granted the ears you have that helps me listen to my music which brings me so much joy. I'm sorry I make fun of your eyes for not working properly. I really am grateful that you cooperate with my glasses and contact lenses so well so I can see the world crystal clear. I'm sorry I criticized your stomach that protects all of my vital organs. I'm sorry I criticized my wide hips...I do hope that one day they will make childbearing easier on me if you'll allow it. I'm sorry I begged for thinner arms. The ones I have now hold me up in some of my yoga poses, and allow me to cuddle my sweet fur baby, Arrow, and hug my wonderful friends. I'm sorry I have criticized my nose. It really isn't that bad. I'm sorry I've spent years trying to hide that beauty mark under my right eye, calling it an eyesore. I'm sorry I haven't owned the fact that I have stretch marks...when really they are only from growing so tall so quickly, and that's nothing to be upset about. I'm sorry I spent years hiding under sweatshirts and baggy pants because I was so embarrassed about you. I'm sorry I complain every time I get a cramp during those times of the month, when really, I should be celebrating that I am finally healthy. I'm sorry I have taken all of the beautiful gifts of health that you are for granted. I'm sorry for the last year that I have put you through...I'm sorry for all of the stress, anxiety, toxins, and negativity I poured into you, and the trauma I invited in with open arms. And I'm sorry for not thinking that you are as beautiful as you really are.
Can we make up? Do you forgive me?
Signed,
Your spirit trapped in you, Payton.
P.S. This was you two years ago, and then you last week. Don't forget how far you've come.
Readers, I recently joined a Body Positive page on Facebook...Create Your New Self...full of women who were on the verge of drastic weight loss changes. Two years ago, after going vegan, I dropped a significant amount of weight, and went from a size 14 to a size 6. After the year I just went through, and all of the stress I had experienced, I found out I had adrenal fatigue...basically, my body has had enough of the stress hormone pumping through my body, I eventually wore it out. This causes mood swings, depression, anxiety, and weight gain. So much of my weight loss journey was in hopes of finally feeling worthy....finally being able to look at myself in the mirror and seeing what I have always wanted to see. After going through this strenuous year, I gained some of that back. I felt lost, hopeless, and like my identity was being stolen from me. I was Vegan-Payton-Who-Lost-50-Pounds now...not just Payton. It's still a struggle every day to wake up and like myself. I think a lot of it is programming from society...we are taught if we love ourselves, it is narcissistic...when in reality, obsessing over everything wrong about you is narcissistic. It becomes all consuming, and that's when things start to turn for the worst. Did you know that the average woman is bombarded with 400 ads a day for products that will make her more attractive? Now, don't get me wrong, I am all about some glam as much as the next girly girl, but I think that's a little extreme. We can't help but turn the pages in our glossy magazines and see a perfectly photoshopped model or celebrity and sigh. I'm guilty. It's what women do.
I had a moment today in shoulder stand during my yoga practice where I had an "a-ha!"Now, in shoulder stand, you're on your shoulders, balancing everything else up in the air. I saw everything. I saw my sparkly toenails, my calves, thighs, my stomach all bunched up on itself...and I guarantee anyone that walked in the room would probably have found it unattractive. I most certainly did not look like the gorgeous instructor on my DVD, but I had a moment of clarity. My body is literally supporting itself. No one is doing this but me. My body is standing on its own without help from any beauty product, makeup, or another human being. And that's when I realized that it was beautiful.
What would you like to say to your body, readers? Would it be about your stretch marks that are your battle wounds from bringing your children into this world? Or your laugh lines? Tell me in the comments below. I urge you all to do the same.
And just a reminder:
And I wish I could send Babs to tell you every single day when you look into your mirror:
Love you guys,
P
Well Miss P., you've hit the nail on the head again. This was so inspirational.
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